Random Thoughts
by mctwist
Summary: Random oneshots from all over the series... Draco's not gay, the Giant Squid consumes Britain, Harry and Ron walk in on Hermione... Professor Trelawney attempts to predict the weather, among other things, and Voldemort reveals that he had a sense of humor
1. Ice Cream is Social Status

Ice Cream is Social Status

In which Draco and Ron have a lively discussion about the price of ice cream.

Ron was in a foul temper. He had woken up from a nasty dream, and had smashed his head on the bedpost. Between uttered curses, he slipped into his robes and trudged his way down for breakfast.

"Don't worry Ron, after lessons today we'll go back and set fire to that bedpost," consoled Harry.

"Setting it on fire is not good enough… d'you think Avada Kedavra works on bedposts?"

"I suppose we'll just have to find out then."

Together they passed through the Common Room in which Hermione and Ginny were playing with Crookshanks. They stopped and ran up to join Harry and Ron.

"What's his problem?" asked Hermione, noticing Ron's mood right away.

"Woke up and smacked his head on the bedpost," intoned Harry.

Ron just continued through the portrait hole and down the stairs ignoring their conversation.

"What's up for today?" asked Harry.

"Well, we have a double potions with Slughorn," replied Hermione, shooting Harry a scathing look over the top of her timetable, "and then double transfiguration."

"Sounds like loads of fun," groaned Harry.

Ron's temper did not improve from hearing this.

The three of them sat down in the Great Hall and began grabbing food. Just as Ron was spreading marmalade across his toast, who other than Draco Malfoy strolled by to cause some trouble.

"Potty and the Weasel. Oh, what's that? I smell Mudblood."

"Go drown yourself Malfoy, I'm not in the mood," growled Ron in response.

Draco positively howled with laughter. "Touchy today are we?"

"Don't make me curse you."

"Oh please, Weasley, you couldn't curse your way out of a paper bag."

"Oh yeah, Malfoy? Well your Dad could, and look where it landed him. I'm sure he'd just love to have you in there with him. Your whole family could meet up and have Afternoon Tea with the Dementors," he replied waspishly.

"Yeah… well… your family's poor! And just look at the ice cream they buy," laughed Malfoy, pointing at a brown block of frozen ice cream that had been recently unwrapped.

"Just because MY family doesn't pay outrageous prices for those snotty premium brands!"

"Because you can't afford them," Malfoy cajoled.

"Looks like yours isn't any better off anyway," said Harry, pointing to a package on the table that was leaking.

"Neither is the Weasel's, so shut your face Pothead."

"Hey, leave me out of this. The Dursley's pay $6.50 for their ice cream," said Harry backing away.

"Here Malfoy, if your really so pissed off about your ice cream melting, you can have mine," says Hermione tossing a tub of ice cream in Malfoy's direction.

Malfoy shrieked and tried to get out of the way, but he wasn't fast enough. The open tub hit him in the side of the head and spilled ice cream all down his front.

"Eww! Mudblood ice cream! Get it off! Get it off!" Malfoy screamed as though he was on fire.

Crabbe and Goyle attempted to get the ice cream off, and when their attempts at magic didn't work, they settled for licking the ice cream off of Malfoy's clothing.

"Mmm… it's sticky…" Crabbe muttered.

"And oh so sweet! Slytherin ice cream is so bitter…." Commented Goyle.

Slapping the both of them across the face, Malfoy screamed, "Get a rag you idiots! Stop licking me!"

"Sorry Malfoy-" stared Goyle.

"-But you taste good!" Finished Crabbe.

Ron gagged into his breakfast, but both Hermione and Ron noticed that he couldn't help but smile at Crabbe and Goyle's ridiculous antics.

In an effort to try and cheer Ron up some more, Hermione approached Malfoy.

In as seductive a voice as she could manage, Hermione said "Mind if I lick the rest up for you, Draco?"

The response came exactly as predicted.

"Merlin be damned! The Mudblood's coming on to me!" He screeched and backed up.

"Come on, Draco, I don't bite," she smiled.

Harry tried his hardest to stifle the grin that was gradually spreading across his face. Ron looked horrorstruck. Neville looked bemused.

"Wait, wait, wait. Neville when did you get here?" Harry asked.

"Just now," replied Neville.

"Right then. Continue on," said Harry, gesturing at Hermione and Malfoy.

Hermione licked her lips.

"Oh Jesus, please no! Take him instead!" Malfoy launched himself behind Goyle and hid.

"Oh, but Draco, it's you that I want," she cooed.

"Can't handle…. twisted… thoughts…." He grabbed his head and, screaming, ran as fast as he could from the Great Hall.

Harry grinned. Ron still looked horrorstruck. Neville was even more bemused.

"Oh Ron, don't be a prat. I was obviously just trying to scare off Malfoy," said Hermione, rolling her eyes.

"So you didn't really want Malfoy then?"

"Of course not!"

"Oh well, yeah, I knew that. You'd have to be mental to think that," said Ron, his ears turning red.

"Well, they better cart you off then," said Harry dryly.

Fin.

I hope you all like it. Please review! Feedback is always lurvly!


	2. Oh's Noes, Not Goulash!

Oh, No, Not Goulash!

In Which Cornelius Fudge is continuously bombarded by the Bulgarian Minister of Magic to try Goulash, which he despises.

It was the afternoon before the Quidditch World Cup. Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic, was obviously very busy. In 10 minutes he had to go and meet the Bulgarian Minister.

He looked himself over in the mirror.

"Damn I'm lookin' sharp," he thought.

"That's the spirit," the mirror replied.

Fudge was used to the mirror constantly approving of him, he was the Minister for Magic after all.

He stepped out of his massive tent into the daylight. They were supposed to be undercover here in this field, trying to remain inconspicuous so as to not make the muggles suspicious. Fudge did not want to sleep in an ordinary tent. He, the Minister For Magic deserves at least some semblance of comfort, he thought.

He strode along through the field, his two aides at his side, until he reached a massive blood red tent set about a quarter mile from his own.

Pushing aside the flaps, he entered into what seemed like a palace. He knew that this was where the Bulgarian Minister was staying. He also knew that he was staying for lunch, but the place seemed deserted.

He noticed a table with two ornate chairs. He suspected this was where they were to have lunch, so he sat down and waited.

And waited.

Several minutes later, Fudge was getting down right irritable. He thought it was all highly rude that the Bulgarian Minister had made arrangements to meet him for lunch for 3:00 PM sharp, and 5 minutes later had still not appeared.

Fudge had had enough. "Can I get some help here please?" he called into the tent.

And, as though it were magic, a man wearing Crimson robes strode out from another part of the tent carrying a dish full of some sort of stew.

Fudge instantly recognized the man, and smiled, making to greet him, but the smile was wiped from his face when he realized what was in the bowl.

"Goulash!" the Bulgarian Minister bellowed gleefully.

"Oh, no, not goulash…" muttered Fudge as he stood up from his chair and backed away.

"Goulash?" said the Bulgarian Minister, still gleeful and blissfully unaware of the look of horror and revulsion on Fudge's face.

Fudge waved his hands in front of him, but the Bulgarian Minister continued pushing the bowl towards him, offering it.

Fudge scrambled around the tent. He would not be backed into a corner!

"I don't want any goulash," he nearly yelled at the Bulgarian.

For a brief second a flash of confusion passed across the Bulgarian Minister's face, as though he could not possibly understand why anyone wouldn't want his goulash. It disappeared as soon as it had begun, though, as the Minister dismissed the thought and continued trying to force the steaming dish on Fudge.

"NOT GOULASH!" Fudge screamed as he ran from the tent. He did not stop running until he had reached his own tent.

As he gasped for breathe, he thought about the 'meeting'. It had not quite gone as planned, not at all, and the appearance of goulash had not helped things. With any luck, he thought, Ireland would win tonight, and there would be no need for further meetings or conversation.

Fin.

Not that funny, I know, but this was an obscure reference to a number of YTMND's featuring the "Hello Der!" "Oh no! It's you!" Grover scene. I enjoy goulash, and it is actually a Hungarian dish, not Bulgarian, but no matter. Hope you at least somewhat enjoyed anyway.

Whether you enjoyed it, hated it, or fawned over cheese, please let me know. Reviewing is good for your health after all, contrary to those many studies in those fancy-shmancy medical journals.


	3. This is Hogwarts!

This is Hogwarts!

I'm not a homophobe, I accept homosexuals for who they are, this chapter just makes fun of all of the homophobes who freaked out when JKR broke the news about Dumbledore's sexuality.

Harry was in bed in the hospital wing drifting away through a world of dreamless sleep. He was rudely awakened by the sound of _very _loud voices from the hall.

"What in Merlin's name are they screaming about out there? You think they're going through a tough divorce or something," said Mrs. Weasley in a furious whisper.

Before they could even ponder an answer the door to the hospital wing burst open so fast and hit the wall so hard that the hinges shattered.

"You _IDIOT! _I should never have let you bring that- that _thing _anywhere near the castle! Dumbledore will be furious!"

"Now see here woman! I can bring a horde of raging pixies and set them loose in here if I want to and there's not a _damned _thing you can do about it. I'm the Minister of Freakin' Magic!"

Before either Fudge or McGonagall could continue screaming at each other, Dumbledore burst into the Hospital Wing. He did not look at all impressed.

Harry, delirious from the effects of the potion he had been given, was highly unaware of what was going on around him. He caught sight of Dumbledore and felt the need to make an ass of himself.

"Hey! Santa! Get over here and give me some presents!"

Harry pointed wildly at Dumbledore. The entire room turned to look at him.

Dumbledore smiled, and replied "Alas, I am not Santa, though we were best friends in my third year."

"But you look exactly like Santa…."

"Well, we do share some similarities, but alas, I'm a homosexual, so I can't be Santa," says Dumbledore still smiling.

Fudge looked like he had been hit in the face with a shovel.

"A homosexual?!"

"Why yes, though I'm far too old for romance and relationship now"

"Great, there goes MY chance of ever having a love life," Mcgonagall threw her hands up in exasperation.

Fudge, still reeling, was working into a boiling rage. "The Ministry and thousands of parents trusted you with our students! This is horrifying! We'll have you removed from office immediately!"

"Why are you telling us this now?!" screamed Harry.

"Just thought you ought to know"

"And by extraordinary coincidence, Professor Quirrel burst into the room, repeated the same line, preceded by "I am sick and tired of these god damned trolls in that god damned dungeon", fainted, and vanished in a puff of canon.

"Getting back to my original point…" began Dumbledore.

"Oh no you don't. You're gay. You have no point!" Fudge was spinning the bowler hat wildly around his head, to the point where he very nearly sheared his own hair off. When he noticed this, he pulled the hat off of his head and held it very tightly in his hands.

"Oh, but I do! This boy here, in the bed, the one that referred to me as Santa… his name has slipped my mind…. Huggies…. Henry… Harold…. Harry! Yes, Harry here saw Lord Voldemort rise again, and the Ministry must immediately begin taking steps to prevent his rise to power!"

"But, he can't be back, mutterings of a raving old fudge-packing fool," Fudge scoffed.

"I resent that! My father worked in a fudge-packing plant for 40 years of his life before he died of Magicians Cholera!" screeched Madame Pomfrey, who proceeded to beat the Minister for Magic with an umbrella.

"Unhand me woman, or I'll have Sean Connery shtick it to you!"

"Sean Connery will never enter this school!"

"Some of us feel safer at night knowing that Sean Connery is out there protecting us Dumbledore!"

"The point remains, even Sean Connery, in all his bloody Scottish brilliance, can not protect us from Lord Voldemort"

" Now see here man, he just can't be back!"

"Oh, yes, he's back, the cup transformed into a portkey by his faithful servant, blood of the enemy, bone of the father, etcetera, etcetera, you get the idea."

"But this…. This is madness!"

"Madness?" said Professor Mcgonagall in a dangerous voice.

"Madness," replied Fudge firmly.

"Minister," said Mcgonagall very quietly, "THIS. IS. HOGWAAAAARTS!" and as she screamed, she raised a single high-heeled boot, and kicked Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, right through the doors to the Hospital Wing.

"Looks like he isn't getting any presents this year," suggested Harry, still down and out.

Fin.

Read and Review and more chapters soon to follow!


	4. Shtanding By

Shtanding By

This is a story…. That makes no sense at all.

Yeah, that's right. You know you love it.

It was a brisk October evening, dusk, on the Hogwarts grounds. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, and even that guy Voldemort were all hanging out in the grounds, along with the rest of the school, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the Beauxbatons and the Durmstrangs.

"Hey, Voldie, what are you doing here?" Harry asked leaning across Hermione to speak to the Dark Lord. It was curious that he did not seem at all alarmed by his presence.

"Oh, well you see the funny thing about that is- " Voldemort began, but before a logical explanation could be reached he vanished in a puff of canon.

"What did I tell you?!" screamed JK Rowling, "Rule number one is that you cannot modify space and time to fit your twisted plots."

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" the author eagerly repented.

Now that the Author has exhausted his Creator-to-Author joke repertoire, he figures he should probably continue on with the story.

Sure enough, something appeared in the sky. It was a giant carriage, filled with a bunch of blonde-hair-blue-eyes-size-zero-hon-hon-hon-stereotypical French women. But they didn't know that at the time.

"Look, in the sky!" one boy screamed.

"It's a bird," yelled another.

"The only logical possibility left is that it's Superman!" screamed Harry.

The crowd fell into a rapid silence and everyone turned to stare at Harry.

Blushing under their glare, Harry hastily added "Haven't any of you heard of Superman?"

In response to this, Draco Malfoy came over to kick Harry in the 'nads. Harry did not enjoy this, but he felt that he had earned it.

While all of this was happening, the Carriage was near enough for someone to almost discern it correctly.

"Jesus Christ it's a flying house!" screamed a first year, and promptly passed out.

The Carriage came in for landing in a clearing, and Hagrid, because he's so awesome, was out there in aviator goggles and light cones in order to direct the carriage properly. Naturally he got completely flattened as the carriage ran right over him.

"Hagrid," Harry yelled, filled with concern for his overly-large friend, made to rush over, but promptly stopped as the Beauxbaton girls left the carriage. All concern with anything left his mind. He did not notice, but his jaw slowly slackened until he was drooling openly onto the ground.

Hermione slapped him across the side of the face, causing Ron to attempt to restrain her from further violence, which worked the exact opposite of what was intended, as Ron ended up getting slapped as well. Both boys rubbing their now red faces, continued to watch the girls.

They came out of the carriage one at a time. Each dressed from head to toe in periwinkle blue, with their little frenchie hats, carrying a loaf of French bread under one arm and a bottle of wine on the other.

They all sang "Hon, hon, hon" with their tinkly little voices. Madame Maxime attempted to come out of the carriage riding a massive oversized bicycle, but it promptly crumpled under her substantial weight. Instead she had the girls form a human staircase, which resulted in further injuries on their part. Finally, she gave up and used the stairs built into the side of the carriage. She felt this was much less grand, though, and pouted whilst doing so.

Dumbledore rushed forward to greet her, and she caught him in a massive hug.

"Ah, yes, Dumbleedore, so good to see you again, hon, hon, hon!"

"Yes, wonderful, but I cannot breathe. I do believe I am lost within the folds of your skin somewhere, though I am not quite sure. I'll try swimming out and get back to you," Dumbledore called out from somewhere within the depths of Madame Maxime's circus-tent sized dress.

Dumbledore, through some form of magic, managed to untangle himself from Madame Maxime, and, desperately sucking in air, managed to introduce the Durmstrangs.

"Look over there in the water!" yelled one student.

"AH MAH GAHD IT'S A FLYING HOUSE!" the same first year was apoplectic. He passed out once more.

Everyone turned to stare at the lake, and if Harry squinted and looked through a hole he made with his fist, he could swear that the water was slowly rippling.

And indeed it was, and the rippling became gradually larger until a periscope appeared through the water.

"It's a squid eyeball!" screamed Colin Creevey and ran forward to try and photograph it. He got pulled in by the real squid and was promptly eaten.

Everyone cheered.

No, seriously, they did.

Fine then, believe what you will, but I'm telling you, no one was sad to see that Creevey kid go.

Finally, a submarine emerged from the water, and the hatch burst open. A giant grinning man popped out.

"RED OCTOBER SHTANDING BY!" he bellowed at the top of his voice.

It was Sean Connery.

Mr. Connery ran the length of the submarine and front-flipped onto the shore.

"I told the Minister for Magic that Sean Connery would never enter these grounds, and so it shall be!" said Dumbledore.

Dumbledore rolled forward and stood up, brushing dirt from his robes.

"Sean Connery, shatanding by, shir."

"YOU SHALL NOT PASS!"

Sean Connery dropped his salute and snarled at Dumbledore.

"GO BACK TO THE PLACE WHENCE YOU CAME, FLAME OF UDUN, YOU SHALL NOT PASS!"

Dumbledore beat Sean Connery in the head with his wand, and he vanished in a puff of Gandalf.

"Now then, who would like to meet the Durmstrang students?"

The student body was a tad hesitant.

Fin!

Sorry it's been a while updating, but more is to come soon! We swears on the Precious!


	5. The Grin

The Grin

Professor Trelawney makes another startling prediction….

Warning: Deathly Hallows spoilers ahoy!

Harry was sleeping in Divination. Again. He had lost count of how many times he'd fallen asleep in the class. Crazy old bat couldn't predict the weather if it came up and slapped her in the face, he'd thought.

As he sat there and drooled all over his parchment (While Ron and Hermione pretended to look the other way), Trelawney went on and on, and on, and on, and on, about the most noble art of Divination.

"And Divination is the most noble art because…" Ron drifted off after Trelawney gave the 792nd reason why Divination was exactly so noble.

Finally, the class actually got to do something, reading tealeaves. They were overjoyed; they cheered, clapped, and shook each other's hands. Then, they found out that reading tealeaves is just as boring as listening to Trelawney talk, and there was many a frowning face in the sweltering confines of the tower.

"It's sweltering in here!" moaned one.

"I feel confined in this tower!" yelled another.

"Shut up all of you!" Trelawney spat back. Controlling herself, "I'm not feeling the love, man. Why can't we all just feel the love?"

"We're not feeling the love," the class droned back at her.

"Malfoy's feeling the love!" piped up one, pointing at Malfoy, who seemed to be having a good dream about something.

"Mr. Malfoy you stop that this instant!" screeched Trelawney, noticing a student sleeping in her class for the first time ever.

"Now, to make sure that you fully appreciate the most noble art of Divination, I'm going to have you copy out all 1337 reasons from the Most Noble Art of Divination, by Arthur Coltrain," Trelawney seemed gleeful.

Malfoy, who woke up very quickly at this pronouncement flipped Trelawney the bird, and promised her that his father would be hearing about it. He went back to sleep. Trelawney fumed silently, but attempted to continue the lesson.

"Now, you shake the cup so that the dregs turn, see. Now, after spinning them 25 times counterclockwise, begin following a pattern of clockwise 20, counterclockwise 15. /Do this for 25 seconds or until you reach 50 stirs combined. Then, perform the elaborate handshake I showed you earlier, complete with the flipping-of-the-eyelids, and the licking of the elbows. After that, swap glasses, turn them upside-down and then flip a coin over who reads their prediction first. If it lands on heads, then role dice, three rolls, winner of most rolls goes first. If this ends in a tie, rock-paper-scissors must be used to determine a winner. 3 rounds, best 2 out of three is the winner."

So the class struggled on, attempting the elaborate process. Most of them thought that the only reason Trelawney made them do it was to make them drop the course next year so that she didn't have to deal with them. Others thought of it as a test, separating the weak from the strong-willed. Still others thought that both of the other theories were tosh and that Trelawney believed that the process was genuine and had no hidden motives whatsoever, variations on this insist that she has no motives because her capacity for intelligence will not allow it, others insist that she, though a fraud, is still a kind-hearted old woman, with only the intention of scamming the hundreds of students that pass through her classes each year.

Ron and Harry (Hermione had mysteriously vanished) completed the process. After 3 rounds of rock-paper-scissors, or, as the ancient Egyptians called it (or so Trelawney said), scissor-paper-rock! Isn't that astounding? A completely reversed word order. Those crazy Egyptians…

Anyway, where were we… ah yes, so after three rounds, they had switched cups, and flipped them over. They then began to try and interpret them.

Harry had won, so he went first.

"Well, this sort of looks like a coin, so that would be The Galleon… hey Ron, I think you're going to come into some money, oh, wait… that's a smiling face, see the two eyes and the mouth area there, so I guess you're just going to be happy in the future, no money…"

Ron was not pleased.

"Well I guess that's alright then, I mean, as they say, money can't buy you happiness," Ron said as he tried to remain optimistic, but muttered under his breathe "Think I'm gonna shoot myself… I'd take money over happiness any day…"

"What was that dear Ronald?" said Trelawney as she stopped at their table.

"Oh nothing, just saying how I'd take happiness over money any day," said Ron, going slightly red around the ears.

"Ah yes, that's the spirit dear," said Trelawney, her mind clearly on other things, "well, let's hear your prediction then."

"Well, this sort of looks like an animal, maybe a sheep or something, no it's a dog, a giant dog, right here in the cup, wonder what that means," Ron said as he looked into the cup.

"Oh no Harry, I've read about this! That's the Omen of Dea-" Hermione was cut off after mysteriously reappearing.

Trelawney had thrown herself backwards away from the cup, and then jumped back up and brushed the dirt from her robes before returning to the side of the table.

"My dear boy you have the Grin!"

"The what?"

"The Grin! Can't you see that evil man smiling at you in your cup?"

"Oh, well, actually it looks more like a large dog to me-"

"Oh, heavens no! You have the Grin!"

"Are you sure? I mean both Ron and myself see that it looks like a large, darkish coloured dog. Maybe an Irish Wolfhound or something…"

"No, I'm sure of it, you have The Grin," Trelawney was adamant.

"Well, if you say so, then," Harry was still doubtful, "If you're so sure, what does it mean?"

"Well, let's see," Trelawney was thinking hard.

Ron rolled his eyes.

"Well, let's see, 23 years from now, you'll have two children, James, aged 12, and Albus Severus, aged 11. You will have defeated Voldemort, lost your scar, and married a woman by the name of Ginny Weasley. Dumbledore will be dead, Snape will be dead, yeah, that's about it," she said, "I think Hagrid will still be around though," she added thoughtfully.

Harry snorted, "Like that'll ever happen."

"Come on, let's go, or we'll be late for lunch," Hermione started to leave.

"What a disappointment," Harry went after her.

Ron stood there for a little longer and then left with them, leaving Trelawney standing there alone.

"Was it something I said?"

Fin.

Sorry I've been seriously neglecting this fic for so long, I have a bunch of chapters and ideas in the works that all just need fleshing out. I promise more activity to come soon, especially over the Holiday break, which we're just starting into. So, Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and I hope you enjoyed this new chapter! If so, please drop me a review, as reviews help to encourage writers to put out more chapters more often. I mean, it's like an encore. If, after a band is finished playing, people begin to make for the exits and file out instead of applauding, do you really think they'll come back to play an encore? It's very simple. Tell me you love it (or even if you don't and how I can make it better), and I'll give you more.

So leave a review!

And don't go anywhere, as more is to come soon!


	6. HUFFLEPUFF!

Yet to be Titled…. Hufflepuff!

In which Harry gets sorted into Hufflepuff. Sorry Hufflepuff fans, this chapter isn't for you. I don't have anything against Hufflepuffs either, they've got Sue Upton and Hagrid… but then that jerk Diggory…. Either way, it's a fair trade off.

Harry stepped through the doors and into the castle. It was like nothing he had ever seen. Hundreds of people sitting in front of 5 tables, one for each house, and then the staff table. Thousands of enchanted candles floating in the air. As he was taking it all in, he fell into a sort of calm bliss, like he had found his home, and then he received a jolt of reality.

"Form a line!" the voice barked. Harry looked up, there was a single-file line leading into the great hall, and he was the only one standing off to the side. Embarrassed, he attempted to enter into the line to his left, where he was met with a sneering look from a blonde-haired boy.

"Well, well, Potter. Looking for a cut into the line?"

"Er… yes… that would be swell fellows…" Harry loaded his voice with charm to ensure that he won over the boys standing in front of him, the blonde-haired boy in front, and two large oafish looking boys on either side of him.

"I think not! You refused partnership with me just moments ago and now I will cause you the ultimate in childhood humiliation: you must walk to the back of the line!" Draco laughed manically.

Harry's face was rapidly turning red, and in desperation, he turned to another boy in front of Draco.

"Can I banana-butt into line?" Harry asked.

"Go for it, " the boy said.

So Harry attempted to enter into the line in front of Draco.

"Hey! No banana butting!" he screamed, "Crabbe! Goyle! Get him!"

And so, much to his embarrassment, Harry ended up outside the line once more.

Finally resigned to his fate, Harry trudged towards the back of the line. Fortunately, he was spared the utter indignity of being very last in any sort of line by finding Ron and Hermione. They gladly let him cut in line, and Harry breathed a great sigh of relief.

Much more, he had friends

"I have friends!" he thought excitedly.

For the first time in his life, Harry was had met people that didn't want to beat him. He was overjoyed, to say the least.

The line progressed about as quickly as could be expected when they had to step forward, sit on a stool, and have some shifty hat decide where they should spend the next 7 years of their life.

Soon enough, it was Harry's turn.

"Potter, Harry," he heard his name called. Looking up, Professor Mcgonagall was urging him forward.

So he did. Taking tiny little steps, with his cute little 11 year old feet, Harry took an eternity to reach the stool. When he finally did, he sat, put the hat on, and instantly got lost inside it, due to it being so much larger than his tiny head.

"Oh Jesus, I'm blind! Someone help me!" Harry fell off the stool and began thrashing about on the floor, until the hat rolled off, and he realized that he was not in fact blind. With a sheepish look on his face, he sat down again and put the hat on, making sure to hold it so it did not engulf his head.

"Well, hello there. I'm the Sorting hat, and I'm here to decide where you'll spend the next seven years of your life. Lovely isn't it?"

"Er, sure," Harry was very nervous.

The Hat, however, had other plans. "So, 'shifty' am I? Well I'll show you!"

With that, the hat pulled itself once more over Harry's face, this time with the intention of suffocating him to death.

Needless to say, the Great Hall sat in stunned silence.

"Help! Help! The Hat's trying to kill me!" a muffled cry came out from the hat.

Sighing, Professor Mcgonagall waved her wand, causing the hat to fly from Harry's head and land neatly back on the stool.

The Great Hall remained dead silent and transfixed on the events before them.

Harry once more stopped thrashing about on the floor, and albeit hesitantly, moseyed over to the stool and once more tried his luck with the hat.

Harry was alarmed to find that the hat did not close around his head and attempt to suffocate him, and he stopped bracing for the worst. He realize that he'd been holding his breath, and found himself once more on the floor, blue in the face.

For the final time, he got up again, placed the hat on his head, and sat on the stool. Confidant that his sorting experience could get no worse, he feared nothing.

But it did.

"Well let's see here, you've got plenty of courage, not too bright though, hmmm, talent is a little lacking, but looks, man sonny, you've got looks to kill. Good thing that Diggory boy's gonna die, since he's your only competition after all…" the Hat trailed off.

Harry, in a lull, came too. "What was that?" he muttered.

"Oh nothing. Anywho, You could do great things, you know, yada yada yada."

"Not Slytherin, not Slytherin, not Slytherin, not Slytherin."

"Not Slytherin then eh? Well better be…. HUFFLEPUFF!"

Harry looked absolutely shocked. "WHAT?!" he screamed.

"Hufflepuff," the Hat repeated.

"You put me in Hufflepuff?!" Harry spluttered, "How dare you! I mean come on, have a heart man! I said I didn't want Slytherin, but I'd even take Slytherin over Hufflepuff any day!"

"That's not what you were mumbling earlier," the Hat reminded.

"Well, I changed my mind! Just change my house, put me in any other house but Hufflepuff!" Harry was on the ground begging to a hat perched on a stool. If a Muggle had walked by then and there, he would have done a triple-take and still had no idea just what was going on.

"No can do, I'm just a shifty Sorting Hat after all," the Hat intoned sweetly, and then added under its breath "Attempting to take over the school by causing unrest in the Sorting and then forming a splinter faction to overtake them all, yes… now if only I could win over that damned Whomping Willow, all will be complete."

"What was that last bit?" Dumbledore asked the Hat.

"Oh, nothing, just mumbling about how I'd like some toast…"

"Well that can be arranged then, Professor Snape, see to it that our Sorting Hat gets some toast."

"Yes, Headmaster, right away," Snape's gravely voice was all layered malice perched upon thin words.

Man… that was deep. Anyway, Harry was in a state of depression.

"I don't wanna be a Hufflepuff," he cried to himself.

"Come on now Harry, I was a Hufflepuff and I made out just fine," Hagrid comforted him.

Harry started to cry harder, much to the bewilderment of Hagrid.

Fin. Sorry for bashing Hufflepuff, but… you know, I'm not the biggest fan of Cedric Diggory.

REVIEW. FOR THE LOVE OF CHEESE, REVIEW.


	7. Snape, a Cheerful Man

Snape, a Cheerful Man

Snape, a Cheerful Man.

God I haven't written any fanfiction in forever. Time for that to change!

Snape sat in a low armchair in front of a solid oak desk. A large variety of odd objects could be found on the desk. Some were blowing smoke, others rotated silently. All of them looked magical.

Snape was in Dumbledore's office with his head in his hands. He had just finished bawling his eyes out while Dumbledore looked on kindly.

"Now, now, Severus, you cannot be blamed for what happened. This is the price to pay when you serve the Dark Lord, for his needs come before all else."

"It was still my fault! I was such an idiot!" Snape started bawling again.

"Cheer up Severus. Life will go on, as is evident by the survival of their young soon. You are familiar with Harry Potter of course?"

Snape gave Dumbledore an evil gleam. Harry Potter. The living proof of Lilly's preference for another man. On the other hand, the last living proof of Lilly Potter, the woman that had meant so much to him. He was torn, to say the least.

"Life, joy, happiness, and love will go on, if you let them, though somehow I feel you're the type to shut yourself away from all those things now that you've been hurt."

"I cast a cheering charm on myself every morning to keep from killing myself," Snape said listlessly.

"I see…." Dumbledore was at a loss for words.

"Well, Severus, don't let your displeasure get in the way of your dealings with your students and teachers! And of course bear no animosity towards Harry for surviving when Lilly did not."

Snape's lip curled, "I wouldn't dream of it, sir."

He got up and stepped out of the office.

Way short, and sort of darkly humorous, I don't know. It's an idea I've had for a long time, and this is how it came out. Let me know!


	8. Tim the Sphinx

Tim the Sphinx

Tim the Sphinx

Everyone loves Monty Python right? If you don't get the reference, please, do everyone a favour and go watch Monty Python and the Quest for the Holy Grail. If you've enjoyed this fic so far, you'll love it. There's also a Clone High reference in there, which is probably the most brilliant show to only have one season ever.

Viktor Krum rounded a corner. He was well aware that he was winning the race so far (he had previously stuck his head through the hedges to check where the others were), so he sped on like there was no tomorrow. He ran face first into the sphinx.

"Vot the hell are you?" Viktor leveled his wand at the being.

"You cannot hurt me that way. It would be foolish to try," the Sphinx purred.

"Okay, how can I pass you den?"

"Answer these riddles three, and I'll let you pass free."

"List the riddles den! I am in a hurry!"

"_WHAT _is your name?" The Sphinx seemed very grave for such a simple question.

"Uh… Viktor Krum?" Krum looked suspiciously at the Sphinx. A moment later, the Sphinx continued on.

"_WHAT_ is your quest?"

"To vin the tournament ov course." Still no response from the Sphinx. Krum braced himself for the worst on the third question. That was obviously what the creature was doing. Lulling him into believing it would let him pass. Well, Viktor Krum was not falling for that crap. He steeled himself, and the Sphinx started again.

"_WHAT _is your favourite colour?"

Krum's eyes widened. And then he laughed. He laughed, and laughed, and laughed a bit more. Finally, after falling over, he recovered. The Sphinx hadn't moved. He realized the Sphinx was being serious. Greatly relieved, he answered, "Green… no wait, it's blue!"

Suddenly, the Sphinx boomed, "YOU CANNOT FILL TWO OVALS!"

Krum didn't know what the hell this meant, but he didn't think it was good for his odds. He turned around to run, but the Sphinx was too fast. It plowed into him and knocked him clear out of the maze.

Harry ran through the maze. He had just used the compass spell, and his wand had told him that he was running in roughly the right direction. He tried to block out the sounds of screaming from up ahead he had heard moments earlier.

"Think happy thoughts… think happy thoughts… Uhh… daisies… bunnies… Sirius being free…. Uhhh… Cho Chang… in a bikini!"

Harry actually stopped for a moment. He shook his head and thought, "Those thoughts are a little _too _happy."

He turned a corner and the hedge started trying to eat him. After transfiguring his wand into a chainsaw and doing some pruning, the hedge decided to leave him alone.

Harry had just turned another corner when he ran into a massive golden…. _Thing_. He didn't know what the hell it was. Fortunately, he didn't have to wonder long.

"I am a Sphinx. Answer these riddles three, and I'll let you pass free."

"Uhm…. Okay?" Harry didn't know what the hell he was going to do about a rhyming riddle-spewing 7-foot-tall golden monster.

So he went with the first thing that popped into his head. "What are the riddles?"

"_WHAT _is your name?"

"Harry James Potter?" Harry recoiled expecting the Sphinx to leap forward and tear his stomach open. He blinked open an eye to find the Sphinx in exactly the same spot where he had left him.

The Sphinx stood unmoving. "_WHAT_ is your quest?"

Harry thought this sounded a bit more like a reasonable question, but the fact that the Sphinx was supposed to be asking riddles still unnerved him.

Harry snapped back to reality, "Oh, erm, to get to the center of the maze… I suppose?"

"_WHAT_ is your favourite colour?"

Harry felt that if the Sphinx wanted to let him pass after only asking him these three very simple questions that was fine by him.

"It's orange," He said firmly. To his amazement, the Sphinx stepped aside and allowed him to pass.

"Jackpot!" Harry ran past to deal with the rest of the maze. Even the hedges seemed pleased with his victory, and none of them tried to eat him again.

Fin! More to come soon, I hope! I still have a bunch of ideas, it's just writing them all down that's the hard part.

REVIEW FOR MORE FREE KITTENS!


	9. You Heard Nothing!

Well holy hell it's been a while since I updated this story. I haven't forgotten. Not about any of my stories. Well, most of them. But Something Wicked, The Perfect Day, and especially Random Thoughts are all going to get updates, eventually. Maybe 101 Wizarding Advertisements down the road, and I don't really think that Neville Was Here and Lord of the Market Square are going anywhere. But hell, you never know.

Enough about my stories, and on with the chapter. My birthday's tomorrow. If you want to be really nice, leave a gift in the form of a review. The last two chapters haven't got any, and as sad as it sounds, it's amazing how encouraging it can be to get comments (Of any sort!) from readers. I know you're out there. I see the stats. Leave me a review!

You Heard Nothing!

In which Dumbledore says a few words…

Harry sat down at the Gryffindor table. Aside from being generally amazed at the place itself, he was even more surprised to find that Hogwarts' inhabitants were, well, normal…

These people had the power to control magic, and lived in a completely different world, but they still did the same things, told the same jokes, and laughed together at them like normal people. Harry didn't think that any of Dudley's friends were this normal, but then again; a fat bully often doesn't pick the best people to associate with.

He tried to take in everything at once.

"AGH, SENSORY OVERLOAD!" Harry began screaming. Fred and George had to physically restrain him once he started pounding his forehead against the table.

So he decided that it would be best to takes things in a bit at a time, starting with Fred and George.

"We figured you'd want to take things- " began Fred, "- One step at a time," completed George.

"I'm Fred," said Fred very slowly, and poked himself in the chest for emphasis.

"And I'm George," said George, following Fred's lead.

"We're the Weasley twins," they finished.

"Alright, so you're Fred, and you're George, and together you're the Wesley twins?"

"No, I'm Fred, and he's George-"

"Right, Gred and Forge, got that bit-"

"Listen," said George, "This is all going pretty fast. Let's slow things down a bit. This is our prat brother Ron. Say hello Ronald."

Ron waved and began muttering bitterly into his empty plate.

"This is our brother Percy," George pointed in Percy's general direction.

"He looks like a nerd," Harry said in an undertone.

"You don't know the half of it," Fred whispered back, "He looks through encyclopedias for spelling mistakes in his spare time, says he's 'helping the cause'. Next thing you know he'll be writing reports on cauldron bottom thickness."

"Finally, this is our sister Ginny. Or Ginevra. Whichever you prefer. We alternate depending on how annoying she's being," Fred gave Ginny a wink. The twins both knew full well that she hated her full name and used it as often as possible in an attempt to drive her insane. When Ginny begins transforming seemingly random household objects into pointy weapons, you know you've hit the name nerve.

"What the hell kind of name is Ginevra?!"

"Hey, we didn't name her. And that could be your future wife sitting right there, so I best suggest you leave the name-calling to us," the Twins warned, "She doesn't forget things like that easily."

"I'll keep that in mind." Harry completed ignored the foreshadowing. Ginny was too cute for him anyway.

After talking to Hermione and Neville for long enough to figure out that he wasn't interested in their arduous back-stories, the Great Hall went quiet. Harry gazed around trying to figure out why everyone had shut up all the sudden, and then realized that a crazy old man, standing before a podium, was about to address them.

"Whozat?" Harry muttered out of the corner of his mouth to Percy.

"Albus Dumbledore. He's the Headmaster here at Hogwarts."

"He looks a bit, crazy? Like he just got pulled off the street or something"

"Oh, the homeless getup is all part of his experiment. He lives with the poor in an attempt to learn what sustains them," explained Percy, "Dumbledore expects that they have inadvertently managed to tap into some form of energy to stay alive without begging for spare Knuts. Whatever it is they've found, Dumbledore thinks it could be huge. He's a great man that Dumbledore. Batshit insane, of course, but great nonetheless," Percy finished his musing.

Before Harry could worry more about the state of the Headmaster's mental affairs, Dumbledore began his speech.

"Welcome, welcome, to another year at Hogwarts! You know the drill, lots of rules, yada yada, welcome to the first years, third floor corridor out of bounds, blood gets off the elevator on the third floor now, massive three headed dog on the third floor corridor, approach it and die, evil forest out of bounds to the Weasley Twins, I don't think anyone else needs to be warned, yeah, that's about it."

Harry gaped like an idiot.

"Harry, you're gaping like an idiot," Hermione nudged him.

"What? Oh, thanks," Harry closed his mouth. Ron continued drooling onto the table, fast asleep at this point, until Hermione elbowed him hard in the ribs.

His yelp of surprise was loud enough to turn all eyes in the great hall to him, and the embarrassment enough to turn his ears a wonderful shade of fireball fuchsia.

Professor Mcgonagall cleared her throat loudly, and Dumbledore took it as his cue to finish his speech.

"so, before we fill our plates with what I'm sure is to be a delightful feast, I have a few words for you: Seven, Five, Three, Nine! Tuck in! Oh, wait, that's my PIN number."

The whole Great Hall burst into chatter.

Dumbledore laughed nervously, "Just forget that last bit and get on with the feast. Forget what you just heard."

"You can't make me!" one Slytherin student screamed before trying to make a run for it.

"Oh yes I can! Obliviate!" The Slytherin's face suddenly blanked and then turned to confusion as he sat on the floor in the middle of the hall. He kept looking at the Snake on his robes with apprehension.

"YOU HEARD NOTHING!" Dumbledore bellowed.

The students all made a run for it. Some of the teachers were even seen sprinting for the massive double-door entrance to the Great Hall.

Naturally, Snape was in the forefront, hexing students out of his way.

A young boy named Hornby was in the lead. "You there, Hornby!" Snape snarled from behind him. Instead of turning around, the boy ran faster.

Snape changed tactics. "I saw your mother on the cover of Which Wench Is Witch!"

Hornby turned around, "Hah, reducto! Gotcha sucker!" Snape ran on.

Before he could reach the doors however, Dumbledore stepped in.

"OBLIVIATE!"

Everyone shut up and stopped running.

"Ah, some peace and quiet," Dumbledore seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. He completely ignored the helpless students and teachers around him, instead focusing on his plate full of pork chops.

Fin.

Birthday reviews are great!


	10. Backwards Thinking

Backwards Thinking

In which Harry tries to employ a powerful type of magic: Reverse Psychology, on Snape. With disastrous results.

Harry was hurrying through the halls. Quidditch practice began 5 minutes ago and he hadn't even changed into his robes yet. As he ran through the halls, clutching his broom under his arm, whom should he run into but one Professor Severus Snape?

"Going somewhere Potter?" Snape was already sneering.

"Er, yeah, I was trying to get to Quidditch practice before your Lordship of Darkness descended upon me," Harry was too frustrated with Snape to really care.

"Is that so? Well, you won't need to worry about going to Quidditch practice anymore. You're banned from playing," Snape was positively gleeful by this point.

"WHAT? ARE YOU SHITTING ME? YOU CAN'T DO THAT! I WONT LET YOU!" Harry sank to his knees and began scuffing Snape's shoes.

"That's enough of that Potter, I'm taking 50 points from Gryffindor for attacking a teacher." Snape kicked Harry's hands away with satisfaction.

Harry was reduced to a sobbing ball of robes on the floor.

"Quidditch…. Life… Quidditch equals Life… Formula broken…" Harry choked in between sobs.

Snape looked quite intent on trying to preserve the memory into his brain forever.

Once Harry had composed himself (Snape was willing to wait quite some time, having nothing better to do), he stood up and glared daggers at him. He decided that maybe if he attempted reverse psychology now, Snape might reverse his horrendously sadistic punishment.

He didn't.

"So, since I now seem to find myself with an abundance of free time, and a whole Common Room full of people who probably hate me, is there anything else I can do for you?" Harry's voice was sickly sweet.

"In fact, there is!" Snape's voice was so falsely cheerful the paint began to peel from the walls.

"That's wonderful! Give me all you've got old man, you can't outlast me!" Harry began to show some disturbing signs of masochism.

Snape was rapidly approaching fervor.

"You got it Potter! Let's take another fifty points from Gryffindor!"

"More!"

"4 weeks cleaning the toilets in Myrtle's bathroom!"

"MORE!"

"EIGHT WEEKS PICKLING TOAD SPLEENS!"

Harry started, and looked up like he had been slapped in the face. He realized that he had just fucked up.

"… Less?" he said in as small a voice as he could manage.

"You just lost the game."

A chorus of _SHIT _echoed through the halls.

"See you Saturday night, Potter" Snape gave him a satisfied smirk.

"It's a date!" Harry called back before rushing up the stairs, greatly desiring to take a toaster in the bath.

Fin. Not so long, but leave me a review anyway!

.


	11. Hermione's Secret

Hi folks. Thanks for the reviews and the hits and the alerts and such. It means a lot to me, which is why I'm now updating so frequently. These are ideas I've had for ages but never had the motivation to transfer into writing. Cheers, review more, receive more!

Hermione's Secret

In which Ron and Harry walk in on Hermione doing something quite…. Disturbing.

It was rather late at night.

And not just that piddling sort of late at night, where it's only 12 or so. It was so ridiculously well into the night that Harry was amazed the sun hadn't come up yet and skinned him alive for being out so late.

Ron seemed to read his mind, speeding his pace as they walked as softly through the corridors as possible. Both of them, despite the danger, could not stop smiling.

Why were they out so ridiculously late into the evening? Well, I'm not going to tell you! What do you _think _7th year students get up to between the hours of 4 and 5 in the morning when not sleeping? Yeah, that narrows down the possibilities a whole hell of a lot, doesn't it?

Oh fine, you know what, I'll tell you. Between the hours of 4 and 5 in the morning, Ron and Harry were spitting wads of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum off the side of the astronomy tower. Whichever hit the ground first was the winner. Ron's superior bubbles seemed to be slowing him down, so Harry won nearly every race.

Yes, that's what they were doing. Hell, I thought I basically gave it away earlier. You thought they were _what?! _You people really need to get your minds out of the collective gutter; it's RON for Christ's sake!

So now, they snuck through the castle. They were no longer wee little brats, so they couldn't both fit under the cloak together, and Harry wasn't going to abandon Ron.

Sweet little bastard in'he?

They strode quickly down the hall. Both had taken off their shoes to make less noise. Their sucks were, as a result, quite filthy.

"Damn my socks are filthy," Ron whispered.

"No change from usual," Harry cut back a laugh and then grunted as Ron punched him in the arm.

"Shh, you'll wake the whole damn castle up!" Ron whispered more hoarsely.

They were just traveling past the portrait of the bowl of fruit when they heard grunting and moaning. It was coming from the Prefects Bathroom concealed behind the painting.

Harry and Ron, being the curious and hormonal 17 year olds we all know they are, stopped in their tracks.

"What do you think it is?" Ron was clueless.

Harry smacked Ron upside the head. "What do you _think_ it is!"

"Oh… Oh! OH…" Ron gradually got the picture.

"What say you we jump through that portrait hole and see who's boffing whom, shall we?"

But then they heard something that froze them instantly. It was Hermione Granger moaning from behind that portrait hole.

"Oh yeah! Mmmm… That's the stuff!"

Harry found himself blushing. "Aww, that's disgusting! Hermione, who would have thought…"

"Say we charge in anyway?" Harry volunteered.

"On three then. One, two… three!" Ron and Harry tickled the pear at the same time and jumped through the portrait hole. What they found there surprised them even more.

Hermione on the floor, sleeves rolled up…. Covered in nicotine patches.

Well what did _you _suppose she was doing? Knowing you twisted people; I suspect I don't even want to know.

"What the hell are those?!" Ron yelled, having never seen them before.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" Harry also yelled.

"Why the hell are you out so late?" Hermione screamed above them all.

"I could ask you the same question!" Ron yelled back, still obviously not grasping the situation at all.

"Well… if you must know, I'm actually out early," Hermione huffed.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Harry repeated himself.

"MY QUESTION FIRST! What the hell are those…. _Things _stuck to your arm?!" Ron pointed in disgust.

"Those are nicotine patches," Harry explained, "They're for muggles smoking cigarettes trying to quit. The patches give you the same nicotine fix as a cigarette, but without the harmful smoking. The ideas is that you go through the patches over a long period of time, gradually getting used to having less and less nicotine every day, until you don't feel the desire at all. But clearly, something is very rotten in the State of Britain if Hermione is a smoker trying to quit," Harry stared accusingly.

"I don't smoke," Hermione replied flatly. With the initial shock over she had gone very red.

"Then why the hell are your arms covered in these patch things?" Ron bellowed. He was still lost but felt that he needed to contribute to the verbal scrutiny Harry was working.

"As you may or may not know, people dealing with stress often turn to nicotine. Well I discovered nicotine patches years ago and have since relieved my stress every morning by waking up at 4 and coating my arms in patches."

"But where do you get them?" Harry was asking, curious despite himself.

"My mum sends them every week disguised as chocolates. She says she always expected something like this to happen to me and can live with it as long as I'm not smoking cigarettes."

There was a pregnant pause. Ron felt that he should clear the air, "I don't know what to say."

"… Well how the hell else did you think I was passing History of Magic! Hundreds of milligrams of nicotine are the only thing that could possibly keep anyone awake in that class."

Harry, looking at his watch, realized that the sun would be coming up very soon, and decided that they should get the hell out of there.

They had just reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. After an obnoxious amount of arduous bantering back and forth, they finally were permitted entrance, but not after being warned several dozen times that next time trying to force entrance with their combined 16 stone body weight would not get them through.

After finally making it into the Portrait hole as quietly as possible, they snuck up to their beds and swore that they would never tell another soul about the madness that had entailed between the hours of 4 and 5.

Fin. A bit of a long one, but this is an idea I've had for AGES. Drop me a review if you like it, or if you don't, or if you like cookies, etc.


	12. Accio Ron!

Accio Ron!

In which Lavender Brown and Hermione Granger have an exciting fight over dominance of Ron.

This assumes things went rather differently in the sixth book.

Thanks for the continued reviewing as well, it's great!

It was a snowy, snowy day before Christmas. It wasn't one of those wonderfully snowy days, where children could frolic about in the shows, though. No, it was one of those snowy days with winds gusting over a hundred and forty mile an hour, enough to knock Hagrid on his ass.

Thus, the entirety of the school was holed up in the warm toasty castle, with fires blazing in every room and corridor.

The Gryffindor common room, being exceptionally warm and toasty, housed most of the Gryffindor students.

This included Ron and Harry, who were engaged in an exciting version of Wizard's Chess.

"With the chair! The chair! Bash his head in!" Ron screamed wildly at his rook, who was brandishing a miniature stone chair toward Harry's knight with malicious intent.

"No, pinch the nerve in his arm! NUMB HIS ARM DAMN YOU!" Harry was standing and shouting at his knight.

The Bishop got there first, and promptly took the head off of Harry's knight.

"SHIT YEAH! IN YOUR FACE HARRY!"

Harry screamed a string of expletives that would have made Uncle Vernon blush.

The Common Room was suddenly very empty.

And Hermione still thought Wizard's Chess was barbaric and turned people into violent idiots. Poor misguided Hermione.

Harry and Ron decided to play another round. Just as they were getting the pieces the pieces set up, two very bad things happened at the same time, leading to some sort of world-ending catastrophe.

Lavender Brown walked down the stairs from the Girl's Dormitories.

Hermione Granger stepped in through the portrait hole.

In the few seconds it took for Ron and Harry to look at each other, Ron to look at Lavender and Hermione, and Lavender and Hermione to glare at each other, Harry had just enough time and sense to stuff his fingers as far in his ears as he could manage.

The result was enough to make Harry's nose burn, his skin itch and his eyes water.

" RONALD WEASLEY"

"ICKLE WON WON"

"YOU"

"NO, YOU"

"Stay the hell away from my Ron!" Lavender squealed, forgetting to switch from her baby voice to her shouting voice.

"I'm his closest friend! Who are you? A skank? Stay away from him!"

The vein on Lavender's forehead was teetering on the brink of bursting, and her eyes bulged threateningly.

"Fine then," Hermione snapped, whipping out her wand. For a brief second, Harry though that Hermione might _Avade Kedavra _the hell out of Lavender.

"Accio Ron!"

Ron, who had previously been standing in the middle of the room, was now sliding toward Hermione.

"Accio Won Won!" Screeched Lavender and Ron began to slide toward him.

"ACCIO RONALD!" Hermione screamed and Ron was suddenly flying through the air toward her.

"ACCIO WONALKINS" Lavender was quick to match Hermione.

Ron was now trapped suspended in the air. He was being tugged either way by the force of the girls' spells, but neither was strong enough to break the other. He was moaning in pain as his shoes went one way and his Weasley Jumper the other.

His shoes smacked Lavender in the nose, with enough force to knock her over. Ron's sweater got itself tangled in the forest that is Hermione's hair, and Hermione cried out as she tried to remove it.

But Ron was still in great pain, trapped in the air, as though being pulled by invisible hands.

Harry concluded that neither of them was doing it right, and instead raised his own wand.

From the couch, Harry yelled "ACCIO RONNIE THE BEAR!" and Ron went flying down into the couch, narrowly missing Harry.

Fred and George poked their heads out from where they each had been hiding, on opposite ends of the room.

Ron nearly strangled Fred, but Harry managed to restrain him.

"You idiots! You could have ripped your legs off"

"Meh, would have made an interesting gift to send home to mum this year," George was almost wistful.

Ron's face was rapidly turning the same colour as the jumper that had just freed itself of Hermione's hair. Lavender was out cold.

"But I must ask, Harry, how did you know Ickle Ronnie's true name?"

"Wizard People, Dear Reader," Harry began.

"Oh forget it," Fred yawned, "I hear Lee's setting his tarantula loose in Hardcastle's office."

"Later Harry," the Twins chimed in unison as they walked off.

Harry found himself rather bewildered. He choose to look at Ron.

"Ronnie the Bear?" Harry found it very hard not to laugh.

Fin.

REVIEW FOR GINGERBEARD COOKIES!


	13. Blue Eyes White Pelvic Thrust

Two weeks without an update?! I should be crucified, I know. Here's one for you before Christmas. No matter what it is you're celebrating, have a good one!

This is an idea I've had for a good long time now, with yet another reference to the greatest movie of all time. Like seriously, I came up with this idea the same summer I first published this fic, like July 2007. Ah, good times.

Blue Eyes White Pelvic Thrust

In which Harry pelvic-thrusts his way out of a tight situation.

Harry was in the Hall of Prophecy. In fact, he was holding one such prophecy in his very hands. He was running as fast as he could, with his prophecy in a death grip, while Ron, Luna, Neville, Hermione and Ginny tried to fight off the surrounding Death Eaters and catch up.

Suddenly Harry's world went dark. He didn't know what the hell happened, one minute he could see well enough thanks to the faint glows emanating from the tens of thousands of prophecies, the next minute he couldn't see a damned thing.

Then he figured it out. Death Eaters, swathed in darkness, were flying through the air toward him.

The first thing that crossed his mind was, "I didn't know Death Eaters could fly," followed by "Shit, I'm gonna die!"

He was surrounded. In his haste to escape he had gotten separated from the rest, and the Death Eaters were closing in on all sides.

Lucius Malfoy was the first to take off his mask. He stood there, sneering at Harry, like a jackal moving in for the kill.

"Well Potter, we've rounded up all of your little friends. Pitiful attempt if you ask me. Give me the prophecy, and, if I'm feeling merciful, I may let some of them survive," Lucius was smiling rather wildly at him.

"I got Potter! I got Harry _fucking _Potter! The Dark Lord will finally love me forever! Take that Dad! You said I'd never get anywhere… no, nowhere at all, well, look at me now, Dad! You're dead, and here I am about to bring the prophecy to my dark master, and with it he'll destroy the world!" Lucius Malfoy was ranting to himself and laughing at a rather high pitch.

It scared the shit out of Harry. Things already weren't looking up for him, now he had a potentially insane Malfoy to deal with.

_Bloody typical_, Harry thought. Always Harry who had to save the world from the crazies.

A large, rather bad smelling Death Eater grabbed Harry from behind, and pinned his arms backs. Harry was still shitting bricks over Lucius Malfoy, who was now sauntering toward him, still muttering, so he didn't even notice. But then the smell hit him.

It was openly hostile. As though, the stench hated you so much it sought to attack the inside of your nose, make it pay for the ability to smell sweet things. To Harry, it was like sticking his head into a cauldron full of Polyjuice potion that had been sitting in the sun for 3 months.

He nearly gagged then and there, and the resulting coughing made the Death Eater grab him harder, pulling him into the awful stench, which made Harry's eyes water.

Lucius still had some shred of sense left, because he was keeping a good distance away now. He pulled out his wand, and pointed it at Harry's heart.

"Surrender the prophecy, Potter"

"Not a chance! It's like surrendering the title of Vice President to Sarah Palin! IT JUST DOESN'T MAKE SENSE!" Harry was shouting with uncontrollable rage.

"Well then, we'll just have to do this the hard way then," said Malfoy with a wink. He began approaching, with a bubblehead charm on, of course, so that he had his own air supply.

Harry knew what he needed to do. He didn't know how he would do it, but he knew it was right. He waited until Lucius Malfoy was only 2 feet away.

He acted lightning fast. Throwing the Prophecy to the ground, Harry also threw himself down. In the resulting confusion, the Death Eater's grip on Harry slackened and he made his escape. Not very far, no he needed to stay where he was, but outside of the Death Eater's arms.

The next part was purely instinct. At the top of his lungs, Harry shouted "PEEEEEEEEEEEELVIC THRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUST", and with that thrusted his pelvis into the side of Lucius Malfoy's head.

The resulting explosion caused dozens of nearby prophecies to shatter, and knocked Harry to his feet. He scrambled away from the giant horrifying smelling Death Eater, now recognized as Crabbe, and looked at what remained of Lucius Malfoy.

His head had exploded. Clean off the neck.

"Neat," Harry said aloud.

Crabbe had knocked his head against a shelf, and several prophecies had shattered on his head. Needless to say, he wasn't feeling very talkative at the moment.

Harry, using his newfound power of head-exploding pelvic thrusts, caused several other Death Eater's quick and assumingly painful deaths before he found the others.

Ron was down and out from the Brain Room. "Oh, hiya Harry. What've you been doing?"

"Oh, you know, taking out bad guys, saving the world, the usual."

"Oh, me too Harry. You know, I don't really care for this place, the brains weren't too friendly you see"

"Can we just get the hell out of here?" Hermione interjected.

And so they did. They got right the hell out of there, and that was that. Really, no drama, no mess. They just got the hell out of there after Harry caused the violent death of half a dozen Death Eater's using only his pelvis and a practiced thrusting motion. Don't try it at home kids.

Fin. A late night update for you all, ginger bread cookies and milk for anyone who reviews!


	14. All Was Well? I Think Not

Happily Ever After?

In which an alternate ending to the greatest series of all time is presented.

Hope everyone had a great Christmas, and if I don't update before it, a Happy New Year!

This chapter is dedicated to all the RH/GS shippers out there. I know you'll love this one. Mildly influenced by the song 'How it Ends' by an excellent, excellent group called DeVotchka. Some of the plot elements were borrowed from the hilarious Gay and Dead in King's Cross, by Persepolis13. It's the funniest single-scene parody I've ever read.

The battle for Hogwarts was raging on. Several characters had just died for no particular reason. Several more went with even less detail.

The plot, the plot was falling apart!

And so Harry knew what he needed to do. He was going to sacrifice himself to save the other characters. To save the plot. To save it all.

He was just one big fricken' hero, you know?

And so, Harry told Neville to kill that punkass snake, and was on his way out to the Forest.

Ah, the Forbidden Forest. He had done so many forbidden things there. Spied on Quirrel, talked with giant spiders, watched Voldemort drink the blood of a unicorn, watched Umbridge get owned by a pack of angry centaurs, and met Hagrid's giant brother Grawp.

And then there was that whole thing with Snape he promised himself never to think about.

That's right you twisted Snarry writers. YOU JUST GOT REFERENCED.

The sun was setting. It was an orange ball of brilliance by now. Harry remembered times past, sneaking around the school in June; the same orange ball his light and his warmth.

Never again, he thought.

Harry did his business with the snitch. He used the resurrection stone, so that he could walk among the ghosts of nearly every adult he had ever loved.

'Jesus Christ this is depressing,' Harry thought to himself.

"Cheer up, Harry! You're such a pimp now! First Cho then Ginny, damn bro!" Sirius was repeatedly trying to pound Harry's knuckles, but Harry just wasn't in the mood. He finally did anyway just to make him stop.

"Well, you may not get to live with Ginny forever, but hey, you can hang with us!"

Harry stopped in his tracks. It would seem that Capslock! Harry would come out to play one more time before dying forever.

"HANG WITH YOU?! WHY WOULD I WANT TO HANG WITH YOU? I COULD BE HAVING SWEET CHILDREN WITH MY HOT-ASS GIRLFRIEND, NOT HANGING WITH A BUNCH OF MIDDLE-AGED GHOSTS!"

The ghosts were quite taken aback.

"YOU PEOPLE DON'T UNDERSTAND ME. NOBODY UNDERSTANDS ME."

Harry sighed. Glad to finally give his capslock! Alter ego the final outburst of rage it deserved, he carried on.

He strode to the edge of the Forest, and could see the dark forms of the Death Eaters already. There, in the middle, was Voldemort, the man who would kill the world.

Harry strode up to him, all balls, "Let's do this thing," nodding at Voldy's wand.

"LEEEEEEEEEEEEROYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY JEEEEEEEEEEEENKINSSSS"

At the same time as Harry was screaming his final call, so too was Voldemort yelling the curse that would end his life.

And in the blink of an eye, there was Harry, on the ground.

Harry awoke.

He awoke in some kind of hazy realm. It sort of looked like King's Cross station, but that could just be the blood rushing to his head. Belatedly, Harry realized he was lacking in the pants department.

And with that, a pair of pants appeared several feet in front of him. Sheepishly, Harry looked around before pulling them on.

With one leg through the trouser hole, a Semi-Nude Dumbledore stepped through the haze.

"JESUS CHRIST" Harry fell over, still desperately trying to put the pants on as his undead former-Headmaster approached.

"Braiiiiiinssssss, brainssssssssss" Dumbledore groaned. Harry wasn't sure whether this undead Dumbledore had a newfound attraction to his intellect, or whether he was considering tearing Harry's noggin open to get at the goods inside.

Harry scrambled away in horror, still desperately trying to put the pants on.

Dumbledore laughed, "Sorry, Harry, I couldn't resist. I'm not trying to eat your brains, though I wouldn't mind a pinch at that nubile young arse of yours"

"JESUS CHRIST! What the hell is going on here?!"

"Oh? JKR didn't tell you? I'm gay! I thought it was becoming quite obvious after the first three or four hundred chances Mcgonagall and I got to hook up ended in disappointment."

Harry was too stunned to speak, so Dumbledore did the talking for him.

"You're probably wondering why you're here. Well, frankly I have no idea, but due to a strange coincidence it appears that I'm here as well. We'll just have to make the best of it."

Harry stared.

"I suggest we have a tea-party, right here, in the clouds," Dumbledore was nearly talking to himself as he brushes the ground to sit down on.

Harry didn't have much anything better to do, so he sat as well.

"Am I dead?"

"Well, you could be. When you get to be as old as I am, you sometimes wonder about these things, but the funny thing about that is…" Dumbledore trailed off as he fell asleep.

Harry tapped his shoulder and he awoke with a start. "Where were we my dear boy? Ah, yes, how to get you out of here. The wand you see, my wand, it belongs to you now. Oh, you can do whatever you like with it Harry, it's yours now."

Harry felt himself staring holes in the floor and blushing furiously.

"But you do have a choice. You can return to the world of the living to pwn Voldemort and bring great justice to Kazakhstan and the rest of the world, or you can be a pansy and move on. It's up to you."

"If I return, will this mean JKR was right about me and Ginny?

"Oh, heavens yes. Unless that sexy beast Draco gets there first."

"Oh… I always thought it would be Neville I had to worry about…"

"Neville? Oh, hell no, nobody ships Neville anymore!"

"Oh, well, Malfoy it is then. Right, see you then, Professor."

Meanwhile, Hagrid was fighting everything that moved. He had killed a good many Death Eaters, and a few giants too, before a horde of angry spiders finally came and mobbed his ass.

But this was not the end for Rubeus Hagrid, oh no. The Giant Squid, sensing the predicament of its true love, Hagrid, rushed to his aide.

Pulling spiders apart with its many tentacles, the Giant Squid was pissed off. Nobody fucked with Hagrid when the Giant Squid was around.

Rearing up in its many tentacles, it made for the Hogwarts Grounds, destroying all who dared stand against it.

It's first victim was that damned Colin Creevey kid, always getting in the way and such.

Seriously, you wondered how that kid went? This was it, man. The Giant Squid violently destroyed him, and nobody cried. No, seriously, nobody was sad to see that Creevey kid go.

Elsewhere, Harry found himself restored to life. "Haha, take that Jesus!" Harry smiled to himself.

Only when Narcissa squeezed his ear like a friggin' vice did Harry remember he was supposed to be playing dead.

And so he was carried, spit in, laughed at, and generally thrown about like a rag doll, until he reached the school.

All the students cried, Neville turned out to be a BAMF, and that snake got owned.

Finally, Harry gets up. Voldemort stared incredulously.

"SURPRISE, COCKFACE"

And with that, Voldemort died. Some say the sheer force of his words killed Voldemort, others believe he suffered extreme cardiac arrest. Either way, nobody was too concerned.

"Woohoo! Half a dozen obnoxiously named children, here I come!"

And with that, all was well.

Until the Giant Squid consumed Britain. But that's another story.

Fin.

Review, for much love? :D


	15. They Hatin'

They Hatin'

In which Harry comes to a horrifying revelation in the office of one Dolores Umbridge.

Inspiration for this fic comes from a brilliant, brilliant avatar I have. Cheers to whoever created it.

Harry Potter was sitting in Professor Umbridge's office. He was rather peeved, of course, because he had previously been using said office to try and talk to Sirius. At the time, it was unoccupied save for himself, but oh how the tables had turned.

Harry sat in front of the desk in a deeply cushiony chair that made it very hard for Harry to adjust himself. He did not like this at all. Umbridge smiled sweetly at him.

He knew what was coming next. Umbridge knew about how Harry had been trying to contact Sirius, and had called him here to confront him over it.

He felt sick. The room, with its pink walls, carpet, and highly pink occupant, reminded him of Pepto-Bismol, which just made him more nauseous.

"So, Mr. Potter…" Umbridge paused, as though she was looking for the right word.

Harry stared.

"So I hear you're pretty gangster"

Harry _stared._

"I'm pretty gangster myself," she said nodding, "Those punkass Hogwarts students think I'm Mrs. White-Bread-and-Mayonnaise, but I'll show them"

Harry was completely lost for words.

"I know what you do, dawg, you can't hide it from me," she said sweetly.

"Er, sure," Harry felt that responding significantly increased his chances of survival.

"Foshizzle real, I knew it!"

"Those Hogwarts kids, they see me rollin', they always hatin', them don't know what I bring! Well I'ma up the game around here, and then we'll see who's laughing. We'll see indeed."

"Mr. Potter, the reason I brought you here today is because I knew that you were ballin' on the streets of Compton, just like myself, and I see you as a valuable ally."

Harry did not want to be having this conversation.

"That tool Dumbledore thinks he can rule this school, I say otherwise! Together we can overthrow him and rule the schoolslashgalaxy together!"

"You don't know me very well, do you?"

"Well, I must admit you still do pose a bit of a mystery to me-"

"Sorry, Dumbledore's man through and through," which, coincidentally would be his catchphrase next year. But he didn't know that.

"YOU CAN'T ABANDON ME. I BE DMX AND I BE DA BEST, POTTER!"

But Harry had already fled the room, lucky to still have his soul intact. He was never entering that room of his own free will again.

Fin.

Rather short, but I liked the idea. Tons of rap references in there if you can find them.


	16. Problem Solving

Problem Solving

In which Professor Trelawney finally makes a prediction worth listening to.

Harry was trapped in the clutches of Professor Trelawney once more. It was the middle of winter, and the damn tower was still ridiculously hot. Trelawney still smelled like a drunk, and the residual scent it left in the air was making Harry drowsy.

"Can't. Stand. Much longer…." Harry's head finally banged down against the table.

"Don't think about it mate. We'll just keep ourselves busy with these charts…." Ron trailed off as his forehead slammed into the table.

That was two down for the count.

"Boys," Hermione laughed, but not before passing out herself when Trelawney came by to see what all the headbanging was about.

An indeterminate amount of time passed before Harry regained consciousness. Hermione was already busy working on her charts, and Ron was still out cold.

Harry decided to resist the urge to force Ron to suffer with him, and let him sleep.

Instead, he busied himself working on his chart, trying to actually fill it out based on the revolutions of the planets. He was not at all pleased when he found himself consulting his astronomy textbook for help in divination.

He was even less pleased because, despite her haste for the subject, Hermione seemed to be doing just fine. A bookwork activity finally set in front of her; there was nothing in the world that could stop her from achieving full mark.

Actually there are a few things.

What seemed like an eternity later, Harry had finished his charts. Hermione was already dozing gracefully, while Ron continued to drool all over his parchment..

"Hermione… Hermione…" Harry tried to shake her awake.

"No, don't want to write my OWL's, 10 more minutes…. Studying… Please…"

Harry began to shake her harder. This semi-conscious Hermione was scaring the hell out of him.

"What? What… WHAT?" Hermione was awake, "did I fall asleep?"

Harry nodded.

"Damn I was having the most brilliant of dreams. I finally flipped Trelawney the bird, kicked a crystal ball, and walked out of class." Hermione thought back to the dream with relish.

"Give it a few months," was all Harry said.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing, just mumbling to myself. Listen, could you look over my charts here?" He passed them to Hermione.

"Oh, sure, I guess… Oh, Harry, right here," Hermione pointed to the first mistake, "You've got two Saturns."

"Ah, Christ," Harry raised his hand, "Professor Trelawney, I've got two Saturns!"

"My boy, twin Saturns is the sign of terrible misfortune! Like a long dormant evil will reawaken with the help of a servant that you inadvertently loose on the world. Something to that affect."

"That doesn't make any sense at all!"

"My dear boy, if anything I say makes sense, we _both_ have a problem."

Harry pounded his forehead against the table until he passed out.

"Looks like he put his problem-solving skills to use," Hermione whispered to no one in particular.

Fin. Bit of a short one, but I couldn't really add too much detail when I already knew how the gag was going to play out.


	17. So You're Not Gay?

So You're Not Gay?

In which Harry and Ron have a slightly different conversation with Malfoy while pretend to be Crabbe and Goyle.

A/N: Almost 2000 hits! Thanks for your enthusiasm. I'd just like to take this opportunity to remind you all that, despite the boundless homosexual jokes and innuendo presented herewithin, I am not, and never will be, a homophobe. Thanks very much.

Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley were scampering through the halls like the little 12-year-olds they were. But instead of scampering with their cute little feet, they were assuming the hulking bodies of Crabbe and Goyle.

This wouldn't have been so bad if Ron and Harry were used to walking around in 6 foot 200 pound behemoths, but as they were not, it quickly became an issue. Harry, being so tall now as Goyle, had problems keeping his balance when turning corners. Ron, with Crabbe's low center of gravity, suffered no such issues.

"We have to try and be perfectly normal around Malfoy," Harry hissed as Ron fell over for the third time that night.

"This is probably what Crabbe and Goyle are like _anyway,_" Ron rolled his eyes.

Ron and Harry suddenly realized they had no idea where they were going. They had reached the dungeons only to find out that they had no idea where the Slytherin dormitories were.

Just as they began eying the corridors apprehensively to randomly pick a direction, a girl comes from one of the corridors.

Instead of asking for directions, Ron strolls up to her and, waggling his eyebrows, says, "Nice boots, wanna fuck?"

He received a bat-bogy hex to the face for his efforts.

The girl, who turned out to be in Ravenclaw, who also turned out to be a Prefect, swore violently, deducted points from Slytherin, and then deducted points from her own house for swearing. She strode off in a violent temper.

"Nice try, but I don't think Crabbe can waggle his eyebrows," Harry grinned.

Emerging from the corridor and seeing the Prefect so upset, none other than Percy Weasley jogged in a homosexual manner toward Crabbe and Goyle, with an evil glint in his eye. Not that the two are related. DON'T CRUCIFY ME I'M NOT A HOMOPHOBE. But seriously, you know how Percy is, that gay jog is just _so _him.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY GIRLFRIEND?!" he shrieked in a highly homosexual manner.

"PERCY?! GIRLFRIEND?! WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!" Crabbe nearly fainted.

Percy didn't find it at all odd that two Slytherin goons knew his name, as he assumed that, because he was Prefect, everyone know his name. Poor misguided Percy.

"I don't know what you're getting at," Percy said with a wave of his hand, highly affronted, "I'm perfectly heterosexual, thank you very much."

Ron sniggered anyway, but stopped as Percy's tone turned deadly serious.

"I'll be forced to take more points from Slytherin and notify Professor Snape of your behaviour."

Ron started sniggering again. There weren't many things better than getting Crabbe and Goyle in trouble.

Just then, Malfoy strode down the opposite corridor; his black little suit impeccable and his shoes polished enough to mirror the ceiling. After the light from the ceiling reflected on Malfoy's shoes into Percy's glasses, the final beam was powerful enough to slowly melt the stones at their feet.

"CUT THAT OUT," Percy seemed agitated at the prospect of having his feet melted.

"What's going on here anyway, Weaslebee?" Malfoy sneered some more. Legend has it that Malfoy sneered so much during school, that later in life, the muscles in his face had seized up into a perpetual sneer.

"Just talking some points from Slytherin thanks to your two cretin friends here,"

"HEY!" Ron went out of character for a minute before realizing Percy was talking to Crabbe and not him.

Percy seemed very alarmed that Crabbe recognized the word 'cretin' as an insult.

Malfoy stuck to his textbook reply, having nothing better to say: "My father will hear about this!"

Malfoy strode off down the corridor. He asked impatiently, "Where the hell have you two been? I was just about to go looking for you, stuffing your faces I suppose?"

"Picking up chicks in the corridors, actually," Ron shrugged.

"Ah, yes, well, your two favourite pastimes I'm sure," Malfoy rolled his eyes, "You only seem to be very good at one of them, and as I can't see any Slytherin girl dangling from your arm, I'm going to assume it's the former rather than the latter."

Ron stared dumbly, doing a very good impression of Crabbe. Harry stifled a laugh as Malfoy turned to eye him suspiciously.

"I didn't know you were smart enough to have a sense of humor," Malfoy questioned.

"It's a… recent thing… Years of practice, you know…" Harry trailed off feebly. Fortunately Malfoy believed him.

They stepped into the passage way that lead to the Slytherin Common Room. Harry and Ron found themselves a dark leather couch, envying them while thinking of the hard formal couches found in the Gryffindor Common Room. At least the Slytherin's knew how to relax properly.

"So…" Harry began, not realizing that it was extremely unusual for Goyle to begin a conversation.

"RONALD WEASLEY" Draco suddenly screamed, squirming violently on the couch opposite. Ron looked genuinely alarmed, "What?!" he shouted as Crabbe.

"Oh, nothing, I just hate that kid, and his family."

"Oh." It was nothing new for Ron.

"What about Potter?" Harry was curious to see what Malfoy had to say about him. He had his suspicions.

You damned D/H Shippers are getting real excited now, aren't you?! Well, you're in for a treat.

" I HATE POTTER. I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM," Malfoy screamed in one long breathe.

"Oh, well that settles that then-"

"OH WHO AM I KIDDING? I WANT POTTER INSIDE ME AND I DON'T CARE WHO KNOWS."

Hang on. D/H shipping 12 year olds is completely inappropriate. Sorry, D/H shippers, some other day.

Seeing the look of horror on their faces, Malfoy begins to laugh, "You believed me didn't you?"

"So you're not gay then?" Ron asked quickly?

"No, Crabbe, I've told you a dozen times. Father knows who is though, but he won't tell me. The last time someone was gay, a mudblood died. Personally I hope it's Granger. If it's that Percy Weasley that's gay, she'll be around forever. We need someone else… Who could possible gay in Slytherin? Hmm, who has the gayest name?"

Ron and Harry looked at each other and shrugged.

"I've got it! It could be Blais Zabini. Oh if it's him Granger will be gone with the month!" Malfoy was clearly excited by the possibility.

"But I have to be very careful about these sort of things. Father's been pegged as a homosexual since the start. Of course he is, but nobody needs to know that. The problem is, that heterosexual fool Arthur Weasley has been conducting raids all over the Ministry. And Father has some… _delicate_ items at home. Good thing they didn't check Mother's underwear drawer…"

"Though I bet they wanted to," Malfoy said with a grin.

Ron suddenly felt as though he was going to be violently sick.

"What's his problem?" Malfoy flushed.

"Stomach ache," Harry wasn't lying, "Too much desert, I'll take him up to the Hospital Wing," well, that was a lie.

Harry managed to drag Ron out of the Common Room before he did a Technicolor Yawn against the wall.

Malfoy could hear the retching from the couch.

"Of course he wasn't sick over my mother… Just keep telling yourself that Draco… You're not gay. You're not considering an incestuous relationship with your mother… POTTER DOES NOT TURN YOU ON,"

Malfoy pulled his hair and screamed, "I HATE MY LIFE, and with that, Ron and Harry got right the hell out of there.

"Just kidding, I'm awesome. But that should give me some alone time with Pansy for a while," Draco waggled his eyebrows and strolled off to go find Ms. Parkinson.

WHOA, IMPLIED DRACO/PANSY RELATIONSHIP AT AGE 12?!

You didn't hear it from me folks.

Kudos to anyone who gets the brilliant boots joke.


	18. And I Was All Like

And I was All Like

Just a quick update based on like, the best icon ever. Over 2000 hits now you guys that's great! Ultra-short, sweet, and to the point.

In which Voldemort tells an amusing knock-knock joke.

It was the dead of night. But no one in this house was sleeping.

No indeed, in fact, every occupant, except a grubby, fat little man, was awake. A party was going on at this house you see. A party…. At Spinner's End. Wormtail was fast asleep in a chair, duct taped in by the other Death Eaters. Wormtail was always the first one to fall asleep.

In a corner, talking animatedly with Snape, was none other than the Dark Lord himself.

"Smashing party you have here Severus!" The Dark Lord takes a large gulp from his drink, "I say you have most of the Death Eaters in here tonight!"

"I do my best, my lord." Snape was clearly not pleased with the prospect of having Lord-Knows-How-Many Death Eater's crammed into his tiny house.

Voldemort, knowing that Snape was such an antisocial basket case, slipped away while he could, before he came across Lucius Malfoy.

"Lucius! You made it man!"

"Yeah, I told the boys at the Ministry I was going to Africa for the night. They'll believe anything," he rolled his eyes.

"Oh, Lucius, the funniest thing happened last night!" Voldemort practically squealed with glee. Yes, apparently he had a sense of humor before getting destroyed by a 17 year old.

All of the Death Eaters crowded in to hear the Dark Lord's story, preparing themselves to laugh in all the right places. They knew that they would face the Cruciatus Curse if they didn't.

"Alright, so I was walking up the steps to this place called Godric's Hollow, right? And I was all like knocking on the door. So this dude like answers it, and he's like who's there? Some guy named Potter or something."

The Death Eater's stared with rapt attention.

"And he was all like 'Who's there?' and I'm all like 'You know'. And then he's like 'You know, who?'"

"And then I was like 'YES. HAHAHA. AVADA KADAVRA!'"

As if on cue the dozens and dozens of Death Eaters all laughed as one, like some robotic studio audience. They laughed uproariously until Voldemort joined in, and then they fell to the floor, laughing until they cried.

Snape looked on with an ugly expression on his face.

Wormtail woke up and found himself duct taped to the chair. He was just starting to complain when Snape came by and hit him over the head with a frying pan from one of the cupboards. He laughed grimly.

Snape subscribed to his own brand of humor.


	19. Bookshop Brawl

Bookshop Brawl

In which Lucius and Arthur have an exciting fight with books in Flourish and Blotts.

Harry Potter was freshly embarrassed over getting his picture taken with that assclown Lockhart.

'Narcissistic prick.' Harry thought.

As he struggled to make his way back through the crowd, who should show up but one Draco Malfoy, the runner up in the Assclown of the Year competition.

"Bet you liked that didn't you Potter? Can't walk into a book store without making the front page."

"So what's your dad doing in here then? Plotting the deaths of muggles everywhere?"

"Better watch what you say Potter, or that muggle family of yours will be next!"

"Be my guest," Harry laughed heartily, "You might as well finish them off before I do accidentally and get expelled," he chortled at the look on Draco's face.

Clearly Malfoy was expecting some sort of violent outburst. He was sorely disappointed by Harry's placidness.

He stalked off, only to walk straight into his father, who gripped his shoulder like a vice and spun him around.

"Draco, surely you aren't going to take that kind of attitude from these types?" Lucius eyed the Weasleys, Harry and Hermione with distaste.

"Well, how about we take this outside and I rearrange the way you think about 'us types'?" Arthur Weasley stepped forward and crossed his arms in defiance.

Arthur Weasley wasn't a pushover. Nor was he frail. He might be balding, but he's also 6'2, and 200 pounds of blood-traitor steel.

Lucius, old and thin, didn't seem to realize that he was at a disadvantage.

Instead of backing down, he grabbed the nearest book, a thick hardcover called 'Numerology and Grammatica ' and swung it like a club into the side of Arthur's head. It sent Mr. Weasley staggering into the Twins, who, instead of standing in shock like the rest of the onlookers, pushed their father back into the ring.

Arthur regained his wits and picked up another book, 'Transfiguration Today', and brandished it threateningly. Instead of swinging it, he pistoned it out into Lucius Malfoy's stomach. It dropped him to his knees, where Arthur began pounding the back of Lucius' head with the aforementioned transfiguration tome. Draco wasn't about to get the in the way, and instead watched his father get served.

Arthur Weasley swung the textbook into the back of Lucius' head one too many times. His wig went flying off, leaving a balding, mildly concussed Malfoy lying on the floor of Flourish and Blotts.

This did not prevent Lucius from trying to rescue his dignity. In a surprise attack, he reached out like a snake and stabbed Arthur in the eye with the corner of Tom Riddle's diary. Between the confusion of his family and the howling Arthur, Lucius slipped the diary into Ginny's cauldron without anyone noticing.

Returning his wig to his head, slightly askew, and picking up his cane, which he waved wildly at all of them, he departed with Draco in tow.

"That's the coolest use of a textbook I've ever seen!" George volunteered.

Hermione looked scandalized.


	20. Snape's Misadventure in Online Dating

Snape's Misadventures in Online Dating

In which Snape discovers the world of online dating, and, being the desperate grease ball that he is, decides to try his hand at it. He does not succeed.

Severus Snape was at Spinner's End. In front of a cheap Dell computer, he was browsing the Internet.

"Hot damn, I'm bored," thought Snape to himself. Maybe the house will catch fire, or that bastard Potter child will burst through the front door.

Suddenly, he saw an advertisement on the corner of his page.

Are you a single, lonely wizard? Are you looking to hook up? Look no further! MagicSpace has the largest number of single attractive users ready to meet you!

"Hey, I'm a slimy grease ball looking to hook up! God bless you Google Adsense! I swear it can read my mind," Snape thought.

Snape quickly signed up and filled out his profile until he hit a certain area. "More About Me" was a section that trouble Snape. It just left this large empty box. If they had really wanted to him to tell more about himself, why hadn't they asked these questions specifically along with the others?! What did they expect him to fill in?! Snape felt angry and betrayed.

Nonetheless, he thought of something to fill in. "I enjoy the sound of softly-simmering cauldron," he typed.

There, now MagicSpace would do a search for him to connect him to other likeminded individuals!

Snape went to make a pot of coffee.

Several minutes later, after enjoying an entire pot full of Hazelnut roast coffee, Snape returned.

Looking down at the screen, he noticed that he had received an email. So, he sang the song that he always sang when he had new email:

"Checkin' my email, I hope it's from a female!" Snape's singing voice was enough to petrify Ms. Norris.

"Lurvly," crooned Wormtail, sounding mildly concussed, who was sleeping under his desk.

After nudging Wormtail rather hard in the face with his foot, Snape continued on his merry way checking his email.

Someone from MagicSpace had sent him an email!

"Me?!" he thought. "Damn, I'm even more of a stud then I thought I was!"

He opened up the email. The message was only one sentence long: "What the hell are you doing on Magicspace?!". It was signed Minerva Mcgonagall.

And then Snape commited suicide right then and there. That was it. He'd had enough. He just said, piss on it all, and piss on you, Minerva Mcgonagall, and AK'd himself right up in the face.

Better luck next time, Snaperdoodle.

Fin. Really short, but I think the message is clear. And since Snape technically lives in a Muggle house, there's no reason for him not to have a computer. The rest is strictly non-canon.

These are all ages-old ideas that I'm finally fleshing out. I'll come up with new ideas soon. Keep reviewing and I'll keep putting out chapters, though! Almost 2500 hits!

KEEP REVIEWING FOR MORE FREE KITTENS.


	21. Taking the World By Storm

Taking the World by Storm

Harry strode onto stage. His robes billowed behind him, and his large boots clipped softly on the wooden floor. He stepped toward the microphone, to tumultuous applause.

Hermione and Ron followed, each stepping out to their own applause and their appropriate section of the stage. Neville followed shortly after, waving as a burst of noise erupted from the crowd. He sat down behind his drumset, its red and gold finish glowing in the light.

Harry strapped on his guitar. An X-shaped guitar, with an orange lightning bolt traveling across the middle of the pickguard. He pushed his glasses back up to his nose, and waited for his band to get the cue. Hermione had a brandy coloured guitar and was standing to the left of Harry, and behind, looking nervous.

Ron, who played bass, was rapidly tuning his guitar. The crowd was growing slightly restless, but rejoiced in the noise of Ron's tuning. They were hungry for blood, Harry mused. He never expected his little project to develop such a fanbase.

Neville started in a drum solo, restless himself, while he waited for Ron to finish tuning. The lights focused in on him, and he began to move almost as a blur. Mind you, he had bewitched several extra drumsticks to play while he used two of them by hand. The crowd exploded in cheers. After having proved to be a giant badass by beheading Voldemort's snake, Neville had become everlastingly popular, not least because of his skills behind the drumset.

As Neville pounded on, like since having become a blur of limbs, Ron had finished tuning. He stepped up to the microphone, the spotlight outlining every drop of moisture in his hear. He brushed it back off his forehead, pushed his lips into the mic, and with the tremelo of an Austin man, spoke "From the bottom of my soul, man, we are Wizards baby, and we have just begun".

The crowd road and Neville counted them in with his sticks, his drum solo having just ended.

Harry began to play. Of course, Wizards could do things two ways. They could hold the chords with their fingers and play with a pick, or they could use their wand and spice things up.

Since half the band were into Muggle music, Harry did a bit of both. He would use magic for the solos, which occasionally caused fits and face-melting. They kept a team of highly-trained rapid response Mediwizards at each show just in case.

And the timing was coming for a solo. Harry could feel the anticipation building in the crowd. When Madam Rosmerta through her panties at Ron, he knew it was time to go.

The rest of the bands could take a slight breather while Harry worked through the solo, flicking his wand rapidly in complex movements. He didn't even need to hold the guitar, the strap kept it up, and the wand movements he was making were causing the strings to be pushed down with such force that they would occasionally break. A quick _reparo_ here and there set everything right again. His wand was a blur, as the solo became so fast it moved into the hypersonic realm of sound. The Creevey brothers both fainted, and Harry began to wind down the solo. Nevertheless, someone in the back seemed to have had their eyes melted, and Harry rolled his eyes. Lightweights, he thought, with a rueful smile.

While Harry was wrapping up his solo, Hermione was shooting Ron scathing glances as he continued to appreciate the underwear thrown at his feet. She knew he enjoyed the added attention, but she didn't want him getting any ideas all the same. Ron glanced up at her sheepishly and readied his bass to play again.

Harry had decided to call the band _A Lightning Bolt Scar_ as they were all brought here together by a lightning bolt scar, Harry's, in fact. Harry was sweating profusely, quite exhausted between playing guitar by hand and the mental exertion required to make someone's eyes melt from their sockets with the power of sound.

He noticed an attractive red head grinning up at him. Ginny Weasley winked at him and he stood, there breathing heavily, as the song finished. He saw Percy in the back giving him a long, searching look.

And then, with a wave, they started the next song. Draco Malfoy was up next. Harry put a little extra power into his guitar playing. Old grudges die hard, as they say.

And that's it.

A few things need to be said about this. First, Paul Degeorge, of Harry and the Potters, does actually own the guitar I described Harry as using. It's the coolest thing on earth. Second, Ron's words at the beginning are actually from a man from Austin, Brad Neely. You can hear him saying the same thing in the trailer for an excellent documentary called 'We Are Wizards'. Youtube it. It's amazing. Finally, A Lightning Bolt Scar is a real wizard rock band from Pennsylvania, and they're amazing. Please google them as well, they make great music.

And that's about it, thanks for reading, dear readers, 21 chapters later. After 3 chapters and no response, I'd all but given up on this thing. And now look where it's gone. I'm confident this thing will have 3K viewers soon.


	22. She's Crazy!

She's Crazy!

Hi guys. Thanks for nearly 3K views. Totally awesome. I'd love some reviews, and maybe a bit more than 'lol' in the reviews that I'm getting. I want to get better at writing, and I'm open to suggestions, comments, and criticisms. Give it to me, all of it. Anywho, here's a new one based on an image.

In which Voldemort follows a daily nighttime practice. He's just a bit paranoid, you see.

Precious few knew that Voldemort was staying in the abode called Spinner's End. In fact, only the other permanent occupants of Spinner's End, Wormtail and Snape, officially knew that that was where he called home. A filthy Muggle hovel. The Aurors would never expect this place.

Voldemort was quite secure in the knowledge that no one could possibly know of his whereabouts. Certainly that Potter boy would never be foolish enough to seek him out here. He was just preparing to go to sleep, he had arranged for the top bedroom of the house to be his. Yes, even the Dark Lord needed to sleep from time to time, he had explained to Severus, who had met this with a raised eyebrow. Snape suspected that the Dark Lord used the pretense of sleeping to get away from the stress of trying to conquer the wizarding world. And with such buffoons as Crabbe and Goyle in his service, Snape couldn't exactly blame him either.

In the dread hours of the night, the Dark Lord was going through his regular routines before sleeping. Having lost his body once, he wasn't about to lose it again to natural causes. He kept impeccable personal hygiene, brushed his teeth, twice a day when possible, and procured his most evil pair of pajamas from an evil wardrobe in the corner of the room.

He had one last thing to do before climbing into bed. The Dark Lord kneeled down and looked under his bed. Seeing it empty, he made to return to his feet when he heard a snicker from behind him.

Voldemort attempted to turn around so fast he fractured his skull on the bed frame. It was simple for him to set things right, but the anger smoldering in his eyes would be enough to quell anyone. Anyone except Severus Snape, who happened to be standing in the doorway.

"Afraid Potter will jump out from under the bed while you sleep?" Snape's lip curled only slightly. As much as he knew the Dark Lord valued him, he was still expendable. He tried to keep his sneering to a minimum around Voldemort.

"In fact it was Molly Weasley that I was looking out for" Voldemort said in clipped tones.

"The blood traitor? Are you serious?"

"Very much so. That Molly Weasley is one crazy bitch. You should have seen her when her brothers died. If I hadn't stunned Dawlish and levitated his body as a broom, I don't know how I would have gotten out of there. Damn Aurors and their disapparation charms."

"And you do this every night?"

"Every time I find myself wanting to sleep, yes."

Snape was compiling a mental list of all the Dark Lord's weaknesses. He may need to assist Potter in some way in the future, and he wanted to be prepared. He added 'Checks under bed for Molly Weasley' to the list.

He strode back down the stairs after wishing the Dark Lord a pleasant rest. He ran into Wormtail. Being the sniveling curious creature that he was, ever resentful of Snape's high status, he spat "What was that all about?"

"Oh, nothing. The Dark Lord was just checking under his bed for Molly Weasley. I trust you'll keep a lookout." Snape's face was completely blank, but within his head he was laughing his ass off as Wormtail's face drained of all colour. He hadn't expected Snape to tell him anything of importance, and now that he had found out what they were talking about in there, he concluded that he didn't want to know.

"M-m-molly Weasley? Married to Arthur Weasley?"

"The very same," Snape drawled.

"She wouldn't come here would she? She couldn't find this place. She doesn't know about us, does she?" Wormtail panicked.

"Considering the Dark Lord is fearful she may somehow take his life, I daresay it's possible that she knows far more than you give her credit for. Besides, she's from the Burrow. She'll fuck your shit up."

This was too much for Wormtail, who fled to his basement dwelling behind the bookshelf.

Fin, enjoy, review, share, laugh, love, all the rest.


	23. A Few More Words

A Few More Words

A new chapter. Yay! I'm coming up with some new ideas again, so it looks like this story will keep going for now. We've moved into the realm of movie/book parodies.

In which Michael Gambon plays Dumbledore in Philosopher's Stone.

Harry was seated at the Gryffindor, his ickle feet dangling over the edge of the bench because he wasn't quite tall enough to reach the floor.

How cute.

He sat talking animatedly to Ron, who was busy complaining about the lack of food and explaining various parts of the castle to Harry. Harry was too fascinated to be hungry.

There was a man sitting up in the staff table. He looked near-dead. It turns out that his name was, in fact, Near-Dead Dumbledore. He was as old as the trees in the Forbidden Forest, and he looked it. His little poof hat and his half moon spectacles leant a kindly nature to his appearance, though.

A kindly appearance that didn't laugh for very long. The whole Great Hall was awash with the chatter of excited students. Dumbledore stood up to make his speech, raising his hands in the air as a gesture for silence. Nobody listened, in fact, Draco Malfoy began yelling above the horde in spite of him.

"SHUT UP ALL OF YOU" Dumbledore yelled above the din. The Great Hall fell to silence. Dumbledore harrumphed triumphantly.

Harry looked across to Percy. "Is he always like this?" Dumbledore's violent outburst had made Harry fall of the bench, his ickle little feet unable to catch him.

"Not usually. He must be really pissed off or something. I mean, he's crazy and shit, but he's definitely not this angry, even when he's crazy," Percy was once more only making sense to himself. Harry suspected he liked to hear the sound of himself talking.

What he did not see, however, was Malfoy standing up and making incredibly rude gestures with his hands.

Dumbledore began, "Now, before we all become engrossed in what I'm sure is to be another fabulous feast, I have a few words-"

"Hey! Professor Jerkface! My father will have all sorts of nasty things done to you if you don't pay me any attention!"

"And who might your father be?" Dumbledore stared down at the blonde haired boy.

"Lucius Malfoy, good friend of the Minister of Magic," Malfoy's chin raised several notches as he made this pronouncement. He was nearly staring into the ceiling.

"Really? My dear boy your father is about as worthless as you are, a singularly average wizard with no extraordinary talents beyond a penchant for cruelty."

The parts of Dumbledore's retort that Malfoy understood made him very angry indeed. A string of expletives left his mouth, expletives so terrible, dear readers, that I fear I would be instantly banned from this website for all eternity were I to publish them. Malfoy had some practice: swearing at the house elf, swearing at his mother, swearing at the grass, his friends, the stuffed bear he brings with him to bed every night.

Thus, the words he spoke in Dumbledore's direction caused the vein in his forehead to begin wobbling. Harry, seeing a similar such vein make an appearance several times a day in his Uncle's forehead, read the signs and ducked under the table, dragging Ron with him. A forehead vein fit to burst read as trouble of the worst kind.

Dumbledore, furious in his glare, stepped aside from the podium and began striding toward Malfoy very quickly. Malfoy began to stutter incoherently. Crabbe and Goyle abandoned ship and ran for their lives.

"I'LL TWEAK YOUR ODDMENT RIGHT WHERE IT HURTS, YOU BLUBBERING NITWIT" Dumbledore roared.

Malfoy, cowering against the wall, had nowhere to run. In seconds, Dumbledore reached him, and gripping his shoulders like a vice, began shaking him, ragdoll style.

"DIDJA PUT YER NAME IN THE GOBLET OF FIRE? DIDJA?!" Spit was flying everywhere. Draco was semi-conscious. Dumbledore seemed curiously satisfied.

"Well, Kloves could have made this scene worse, right?" Harry asked Ron hesitantly.

"I dunno mate, that was pretty bad."

" At least Mike Newell wasn't involved…" Ron added optimistically.

They both agreed, and settled into the feast. Draco Malfoy, covered in the manly spittle of Michael Gambon, still cowered on the floor.

Fin.

For the record, I love Michael Gambon, he plays a great Dumbledore, I love Steve Kloves, who generally does a pretty damn good job, and I don't even mind Mike Newell that much. I mean yeah, there were a few parts in Goblet of Fire (Like the rage!Dumbledore parodied above) that were completely inexcusable, but overall the movie wasn't too bad at all.

Read and Review, the kittens are tired of not being handed out!


	24. Ordinary Super Heroes

Ordinary Super Heroes

Wow guys! You impressed the hell out of me. 600 hits in one night?! Awesome! Random Thoughts is approaching 5000 total hits, and almost 20 thousand words! This chapter might bring both over! Thanks again for continuing to read and review, a year and a half later.

Harry was in the Department of Mysteries, and oh man, dear readers, he was scared as balls. Just how much is something when related to balls? Very much, and so, Harry was about ready to unloose his bowels upon the inside of his drawers. Turning from such unpleasant thoughts, he tried to face what was happening in front of him.

Ron was being repeatedly sucker-punched before him by a large blonde Death Eater, who was laughing as he wheezed for breath. Harry cringed. Luna was having her hair pulled by Bellatrix. Luna was pestering her to stop, but she wasn't listening. Neville was being given a purple-nurple by Avery.

It was a scene of unwonted destruction. It brought a tear to Harry's eye.

If only he had parents who could bail him out, like the rich kid who gets out on bail for drunk driving. But Harry had no parents. No one to watch his ass. And now Lucius Malfoy was giving Hermione a noogie.

"STOP! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD STOP! I'll give you the prophecy! Just stop the torture! It's so violent and cruel!

The Death Eaters all looked up. Harry began to walk forward with the prophecy. He didn't know what the hell was going to happen, but he couldn't let his friends suffer like that.

Lucius stepped forward, sneering. He never knew that the Potter boy would be so ignorant. To think that he and his little friends would not be obliterated the second that prophecy passed into his hands. He was very tempted to laugh in his face, but he would save his laughter for later.

Harry came within a foot of Malfoy. He held up the prophecy and then let it fall out of his palms. He felt it shatter near his feet. Lucius suddenly looked horrified.

"Oh, shit. That wasn't supposed to happen," Harry grinned apologetically.

"DAMNIT! The Dark Lord is going to KILL me!"

"Soooo, er, what now?" Harry asked.

"Well, uhm, I think we're probably going to kill you and your friends here, and then maybe bring your corpses to the Dark Lord to try and redeem ourselves for this massive failure."

"Well, that does kinda make sense. No chance of you guys, you know, just letting us go and such?"

"Nah, I don't think the Dark Lord would be too pleased with that, would he?"

"No, I suppose not." 

At precisely this moment, Neville regained consciousness. He screamed "Don't give it to him Harry!" before he was kicked in the face by another death eater, probably Rudolphus. Harry wasn't really paying that much attention.

Neville screamed in agony. "You'll speak when I tell you to speak, alright?!"

"Well, that does make sense I guess," Neville shrugged from the floor.

"You see why I have to kick you? To make you listen. You don't listen if I don't kick you. NOBODY LISTENS UNLESS I KICK THEM!"

Rudolphus ran from the room, pulling his hair.

"Well, I guess we should probably get on with killing you all then," Lucius put forward. Bellatrix was nodding enthusiastically.

"Well, I guess this is it then…. Goodbye, I suppose?"

"Avada- "

But at right that very moment, the fire exit burst open. "Expelliarmus!" screamed a shabbily dressed wizard, and so Lucius' wand flew into the air.

"Rats, foiled again!" Lucius stomped his feet in frustration.

"Stupefy!" Harry yelled, and Lucius flew backward.

Suddenly there was fighting going on everywhere. The Order of the Phoenix had arrived, and were here to save the day.

Harry made his way over to Remus, who has violently red in the face and breathing like a chimney.

"What the bloody hell took you so long? We nearly DIED!"

"Sorry, mate," said Sirius, who had came up from behind, "But we had to take the stairs like everyone else."

"What? I thought you guys could do that badass smoke thing where you just show up and shit!"

"David Yates might be able to do that, but I sure as hell can't," barked Moody from somewhere in the distance.

"Well, fuck. No wonder it took you guys so long. Here I was expecting the dramatic entry to save all of us, and I end up trying to make small-talk with god damned Lucius Malfoy."

"It's not our fault Harry," Remus said, "If you see Yates, feel free to ask him."

"Yeah, and then hit him in the face for me," growled Sirius, "My death was caused by drapery, not an avada kedavra to the face!"

"Speaking of which-"

"Hello dear cousin! Come to play with the big boys this time?" Bellatrix cackled.

"Shut up you! You're a whore to a man who has no interest in you, or anyone! Your life is so pathetic it makes me laugh!"

Sirius winked at Harry. Bellatrix screamed in anger and stupefied Sirius. He fell into the curtain.

Cue the Imogen Heap. Fin.

If the ending doesn't make you laugh, it's because you haven't seen the 'Dear Sister' SNL digital spoof, which is absolutely hilarious, and makes use of the Imogen song 'Hide and Seek'. Watch it and the ending to this chapter will make a lot more sense. In other news, this chapter will break the 20 thousand-word mark. Thanks for reading through it, I know it's a bit of a jog from the start at this point so if you're new to the series, welcome, and thanks, dear readers, for sticking with it!

See you next week!


	25. Ducks and Their Extraordinary Properties

Ducks and Their Extraordinary Properties

Over 5000 hits. You people rock.

In which Ron has an exciting conversation about ducks while trying to move the rocks in the Chamber of Secrets.

Several things had happened over the course of the last few minutes that left Ron Weasley's head spinning. That wasn't really a very daunting task, but nonetheless, when you hear about them, I'm sure you'd agree that anyone might find them a tad overwhelming.

Not only was his Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher sitting on the floor, his memory charm having backfired, his best friend was currently running deeper into the Chamber to confront the Heir of Slytherin and a giant snake. Presuming he survived the encounter, there was the whole matter of the wall of rock that happened to be in the way of him and Harry.

Ron decided to try and move as much rock as he could so that when Harry got back (He didn't even want to think about what would happen if Harry never came back) they could try and figure out a way to get the hell out of there.

That was the other thing. Getting into the Chamber was easy enough, a giant slide kilometers deep. But how the hell would they get out?

"Hey, you. Yeah, ugly, I'm talking to you," he kicked at Lockhart's shins. Lockhart seemed to be regaining consciousness, and groaned before sitting up.

"Oh, hello there. I was lost in thought-" Ron snorted here, "and didn't see you. Who are you, by the way?"

"Ron Weasley. You've gotta help me move all this rock."

Lockhart's memory may be erased, but he still thought exactly the same way. He gave Ron a calculating look, "and why would I do that?" He paused to think of his name, but when he couldn't remember it, he settled for "I don't work for free you know."

Ron was getting horribly frustrated, but fortunately he wasn't as retarded as everyone thought.

"Well, you've gotta clear that rock out so you can show the press your victory. I expect they'll be here soon."

That got Lockhart's attention. "The press you say? It's because of me isn't it?"

"The world's largest mountain troll is on the other side of these rocks, dead, and it didn't kill itself, if you know what I mean," said Ron with a wink. Yes, he even winked at Lockhart. And of course being the giant tool that he was the now ex-Defense Against the Dark Arts professor just ate it up.

"Of course, of course. Had to be, no one else would be up to the job." Lockhart nodded and rolled up his sleeves.

They moved stones in silence for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Lockhart turned to Ron and said, "You know, the magical properties of ducks are quite extraordinary."

Ron looked slightly alarmed. "Ducks?" he asked cautiously. It appeared that Lockhart's neuroticism hadn't entirely disappeared.

"Why yes, the very same! Their feathers can be used in the Gernuncuous Elixir, a tricky little potion that can be used for stewing beef or killing soap scum depending on your preference"

Ron remained silent so Lockhart continued babbling on to himself. "Oh yes, quite like TLC, and it works so much better too. The common Mallard can also be used to pull any number of magical carriages. They only reveal their extraordinary strength when bread made by Xeno Lovegood is thrown in front of them; but nonetheless, the man assures me that it's there."

"That's… Really great…." Ron sighed and hit Lockhart over the head with a large piece of rock. And then kept hitting him. In fact he was so busy hitting him with the rock he failed to notice the blood spraying on his hands and the rock.

Oh well.

Fin.

Bit of a dark ending there, but I'm not really the biggest fan of Lockhart. Keeping reading, keep reviewing, and I'll keep thinking random thoughts.


	26. Wrong Prophecy

Wrong Prophecy

Had to get this one out a bit early because I've been supremely busy all weekend so far. Especially today. Saturday update is a must. Had this idea for a long time now. Tell me what you think  Random Thoughts is now over 20 thousand words long, and has received nearly six thousand hits. Hot damn you people rock.

In which Professor Trelawney attempts to sell Harry weed when he returns her crystal ball to her.

Harry stepped up the stairs slowly, reluctant to return to the horrible confines of the Divination tower. He climbed the ladder to the trapdoor and just began to step into the wafting cooking sherry when a hand seized him roughly by the shoulder and spun him around.

_'IT WILL HAPPEN TONIGHT.'_

It was only Professor Trelawney, but she seemed quite deranged, much more deranged than usual. Her eyes were rolling into the back of her head and her breathe was coming in quick rasps. Before Harry could say anything, she began to speak, quite harshly, in a voice much unlike her own.

_'THE DARK LORD LIES ALONE AND FRIENDLESS, ABANDONED BY HIS FOLLOWERS. HIS SERVANT HAS BEEN CHAINED THESE TWELVE YEARS. TONIGHT, BEFORE MIDNIGHT ... THE SERVANT WILL BREAK FREE AND SET OUT TO REJOIN HIS MASTER. THE DARK LORD WILL RISE AGAIN WITH HIS SERVANT'S AID, GREATER AND MORE TERRIBLE THAN EVER HE WAS. TONIGHT ... BEFORE MIDNIGHT ... THE SERVANT WILL SET OUT TO REJOIN HIS MASTER ...'_

Professor Trelawney's head fell forward onto her chest. She made a grunting sort of noise. Harry sat there, staring at her. Then quite suddenly, Professor Trelawney's head snapped up again.

"Er, what the hell was that?"

"Sorry, my dear?" Professor Trelawney looked at him, quite confused. Seeing the crystal ball in his hands, she picked it up and tossed it over her head. Harry heard it smash in the distance.

"Those words, that you said! Something about the Dark Lord?"

"I didn't day nothing, man. I know my rights!" Trelawney crossed her hands over her chest.

"Right… Anyway, I'm going to leave now," Harry made to step out of the tower and then dive down the ladder for fear of his life. But just as suddenly, Trelawney spun him around again. Harry braced himself for the harsh voice. Trelawney's eyes rolled and her mouth sagged. Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to hear any more unnaturalness, but of course, being held firmly in place by the professor, he didn't have much choice in the matter.

"_AFGHAN PURPLE, 15 DOLLARS PER GRAM. CHICAGO GREEN, 5 DOLLARS PER GRAM. EDINBURGH EIGHTBALL, 10 BUCKS. PEYOTE CACTI ALSO FOR SALE."_

Harry knew little about drugs beyond what he'd overheard from his idiotic cousin, but it sounded like Trelawney was reading off prices for drugs.

"S—Sorry?" Harry was genuinely afraid now. He could have prophecy after prophecy about Voldemort spewed at him, but this was just too much.

"_WANNA BUY SOME WEED, MAN?" _

Harry was about to politely decline and then bite and claw his way the hell out of there, but Professor Trelawney suddenly went normal again.

"I'm so sorry my dear boy, wrong prophecy. There must be something caught in my throat," She wheezed and coughed only as veteran smoker could.

"I don't want to buy any weed!" Harry nearly cried as he ran for the trapdoor.

Trelawney looked momentarily guilty, and called after him, "A Divination professor has to make an honest living somehow!"

Fin.

If you enjoyed it, leave me a review and stuff!


	27. I Don't Need No Poncy

I Don't Need No Poncy…

I was considering making this its own story, but it doesn't really work. Expect to see this become a bit of a running joke, though.

Chaos and calamity in the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!

Being under siege by the evil Lord Voldemort tends to do that.

Unbeknownst to most of the school, however, two Gryffindor's were plumbing the depths of the Chamber of Secrets.

"Er… Ron, how exactly do we get out of here?" Hermione raised the question nervously while side-stepping the skeletal remains of the basilisk.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we use the massive chute thing to get down, but how do we get back out again?"

"Well, uh, I dunno… We'll just have to… uhm…"

"Should we try calling Fawkes or something?"

"I don't need no poncy bird! We'll just… er.. find the stairs or something! Yeah! Ginny must have had a way out of here…"

"Oh, I suppose."

So they searched. Just about everywhere really. But there were no stairs to be found. So they resorted to the only desperate plan they could think of…

"Oi! Myrtle! Can you toss us down a rope?"

"Can ghosts do that?" Hermione whispered to Ron.

"I dunno, Peeves doesn't seem to have a problem unscrewing chandeliers, now does he?"

Hermione conceded that indeed he didn't seem to have any problem manipulating things in the real world, just as Myrtle poked her head down the sink-hole and began screeching.

"Did you people call me or something?! You better need me! Don't twist Myrtle's leg or she'll haunt you for eternity!"

"Myrtle!" They both yelled, "Send down some rope so we can get out of here!"

"I haven't got any rope!"

"What?!" They both shouted.

"Well do you really think it seems like a socially acceptable practice for ghosts to carry around rope for whoever may need it?"

"Er… Perhaps not…" Hermione trailed off, but Ron interjected, "But that's not the point! Can't you just get rope or something?"

"NO I CAN'T JUST GET SOME ROPE. IN CASE YOU'VE FAILED TO NOTICE, I'M A GHOST! I CAN'T JUST 'GET' SOMETHING BECAUSE YOU WANT ME TO!" Myrtle was howling down the sink-hole.

"Well, there goes that plan then…."

So they sat on the floor of the Chamber and pondered. Finally, Ron came up with another idea.

"I know! See that thing over there?"

"What, you mean that giant plot hole?"

"Yeah, exactly. We can use that to get out of here. Come on, just jump in!"

So they jumped in the pothole, and most spectacularly landed on the floor of Myrtle's washroom.

"Well, that solves that then"

Fin.

I'm sure JKR will come up with some perfectly reasonable explanation for how they got back out, but until that day comes, I can still make fun of it! Just like Mike Newell still has to explain what happened to Barty Crouch JR in his awful, awful movie.

See you all next week!


	28. The Deatheaters Raid an Ikea

The Death Eaters Raid an Ikea

This is a one-shot…. I can't quite remember where the idea came from (like most of my stories, inspiration sparks and then is forgotten) but, well, here it is now. Our lovely Death Eaters and Voldy-Poo are going to raid an Ikea. Er… don't ask why… let's just say that their Super Evil Headquarters was under furnished? Right then, that's the story. We have a plot!

ON WITH THE STORY!

A woman wearing a store uniform was smoothing the comforter on a bed that was on display. Her nametag said that her name was 'Carolyn'. Carolyn moved on to the next bed and began smoothing the covers and putting the pillows back in place. It was nearly closing time; at 10 o'clock at night she would be glad to get into her own bed in a little over half an hour. After she had finished the last bed, her and her coworkers were going to lock things up and leave the store.

_Crack._ A noise like gunfire filled the air as dozens of Wizards Apparated into the building. The room then filled with the whooshing of cloaks, and the chaos began.

Carolyn panicked, looking around her wide-eyed. A gang of tall men wearing masks and long, billowing cloaks were approaching her. One muttered a spell under his breathe and a large green skull with a snake in it's mouth flew above the room and past the ceiling.

Carolyn screamed.

"Avada Kedavra!" a voice screamed. Carolyn dropped dead on the ground.

The Death Eater bounced around with positive glee.

"I got one, I got one!" he nearly giggled, so proud of himself.

"Shut up, damnit!" said a cold, sneering voice, one that could belong to no other then Lucius Malfoy.

"I'm sorry…" said the other voice, belonging to either Crabbe or Goyle (it was hard to tell with the masks on)

"Don't be sorry! Be silent!" screamed Malfoy back at them.

"Sorry…"

"SHUT UP, DAMNIT!"

Finally, Crabbe or Goyle got the hint and shut up.

The Death Eaters pressed onwards. A man in an Ikea uniform was backed against the wall. "What the hell do you want from me?" he screamed as the Dark Lordy-Loo approached him.

"Nothing, really," shrugged Voldemort. "Except of course for your soul and all the furniture in this building."

"Oh, God!" the man whispered, trying to edge towards the phone.

"Ah, ah, ah," said Voldemort, with a scolding look on his face. Were it physically possible, he would have smiled. Since it wasn't, he settled for making his scowl slightly less evil looking.

Just as the man went to pick up the phone, Voldemort sent a jet of light at it that blew it into several thousand pieces. Melted bits of plastic flew everywhere.

Voldemort, still being horribly casual, shrugged and _scourgify_'d the remains off of his robes.

The Muggle man goggled at him in horror. "What the hell are you?" he whispered at him, shaking in fear.

"I am the Dark Lord, the most evil wizard of my time," replied Voldemort. "But why am I wasting my time talking to you? Let's have some fun!"

Just as Voldemort exclaimed that, the Muggle jumped up onto the counter nearest him and began dancing to a Russian Cossack dance on the counter. Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he kicked out his legs like he was a pro.

The Death Eaters laughed gleefully watching the man do the dance on the counter. They sat there and watched him dance for a good 20 minutes, applauding some of the improvisations that Voldemort threw in to liven things up when it got boring. Finally, Voldemort got tired of the man.

"Avada Kedavra," he droned lazily. The man, with a small whoop of joy, died. It was a tiring experience being under the control of Lord Voldemort, so much so, that the man was quite relieved when he died.

The Death Eaters, plus His Lordy-loo-lyness were waiting for two more death eaters to arrive, by broom. To help deal with their boredom, Voldemort tried to make a cup of tea using the coffee machine in the food court area.

"I have no idea how to use this thing," admitted Voldemort.

"Maybe if you put the tea bag in here," suggested one Death Eater, pointing to the filter.

After many, many failed attempts, Voldemort finally gave up trying to make tea and instead stuffed his face full of Swedish Meatballs.

"What?" glared Voldemort accusingly. "Those will go straight to your hips my lord, they are loaded full of saturated and trans fats!"

"I WILL EAT THESE MEATBALLS AND DAMN THE EXPENSE," roared Voldemort at them.

"Yes milord, only making a suggestion," whispered the Death Eater, shaking from head to toe and trying to make himself look busy by tying his shoe.

After another 15 minutes of watching Voldemort eat raw meatballs, one of the Death Eaters finally had the courage to speak up and said "Milord, wouldn't they taste better if they were cooked? It would also vastly decrease the chance of you getting sick from eating them," he cowered waiting for the _crucio_ that was bound to come his way, but it never came.

"A capitol idea!" shouted a delighted Voldemort. _Incendio!_ And with a flick of his wand, the pile of meatballs sitting on the table caught fire.

Clapping his hands together like a child, Voldemort blew out of the flames and let the meatballs cool. After approximately 2 minutes Voldemort lost patience and started gorging on the meatballs once more.

After an hour and a half of gorging on meatballs the two Death Eaters finally showed up. After another hour of watching Voldemort make the two do back flips from table to table courtesy of the Imperious curse, Voldemort finally got down to business.

"All of you!" he screamed. "Go into the back warehouse and load everything through this vanishing cabinet. The other cabinet is in our headquarters, so we wont have to drag all of this crap back through with us," ordered Voldemort smugly.

"Oh what a spectacular idea milord! Brilliant! You're the bestest dark wizard ever! You rock! You're the master, the god, and the amazingly awesome. I want your babies!" one rabid Death Eater screamed out, quite suddenly.

A flicker of surprise passed over Voldemort's face, like an evil twitch, but just as soon as it had begun it was over. An evil glare washed it's way over Voldemort's face.

"You think this funny?" he asked quietly. "Well, I've got news for you," he said growing louder, "you've got your nose so far up my ass, you can see the contents of it when I open my mouth!" finished Voldemort, screaming.

"_Crucio!"_ he hissed. "I'm going to reward you for your loyalty," Voldemort switched to the second Unforgivable Curse, "_Imperio!"_ he shouted. After several humorous minutes of the semi-retarded Death Eater dancing randomly, he had finally reached the last curse. The man looked horrified at him. "_Avada Kedavra!"_ a get of green light shot out of Voldemort's wand at the man, and he dropped to the floor instantly, dead, with that look of horror still engraved on his face.

"Ha! You're dead now! Hahahahahaha!" the Death Eater laughed like some crack-hungry lunatic.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_ another jet of green light. _"_Oops! Look's like you're dead too!" said Voldemort in a very good impression of Dr. Evil

"Funny man went bye-bye!" said another Death Eater, clapping his hands together like a young child hyped up on sugar.

Sighing, Voldemort whispered the incantation again, and once more another Death Eater dropped dead at his feet.

"ANYBODY ELSE WANT SOME?!" screamed Voldemort, aiming his wand randomly and pointing it threateningly in Death Eater's faces. "No?" he said quietly, "I'll do it. Don't make me do it," he threatened. Sighing, he lowered his wand. His penetrating red eyes glowered at the Death Eaters. "Who the hell invited those idiots anyway?" Voldemort asked.

"I think those were Crabbe and Goyle's recruits, milord," Malfoy spoke up.

"Yes, yes, they seem to be very similar in many aspects," Voldemort said acidly. He turned around and, after disentangling himself from his billowing robes, strode off to stew in his darkness.

Lucius Malfoy, seeing another opportunity to get some Death Eater brownie points, began shouting orders.

The finest furniture in the store had all disappeared before the sun came up.

Lord Voldemort, sitting in his new eight hundred dollar 'Orango' Chintz, was most pleased.

Fin.

This story predates Random Thoughts by a long, long time. Early 2007 or maybe even 2006. I hope you enjoyed. Read and Review of course, and I'll see you next Saturday!


	29. Hangover Days

Hangover Days

In which a drunken Professor Lupin offers Harry alcohol in his office.

Harry Potter was moping about the castle. He hadn't been allowed to go to Hogsmeade because his parents were dead, the Muggles were borderline-abusive, and Sirius Black was still just a murderer on the loose trying to kill him in his sleep.

Harry liked dwelling on dark things. Oh, so angsty. So, he continued moping through the halls, oblivious to the happy students enjoying the weekend. Oblivious to Peeves throwing chalk at his head. Oblivious to Filch shouting about his suspicious attitude.

As he moped about, he was yanked into an office. He stopped moping. He was in Professor Lupin's office.

Professor Lupin walked over to his desk and sat down. "Ihearjamopinboutthecastleharrah" Lupin said.

"… Sorry, what?" Harry couldn't understand what the hell Lupin was trying to say.

Lupin sighed and pushed his hair back. Harry smelt 40 years worth of London Dry on his breath. The Professor was sloshed.

"I hearja was mopin' bout the castle" Lupin said slower, but not really much more clearly. Harry still managed to get the gist of it.

"Oh. Yeah, well, I can't go to Hogsmeade while all my friends get to, so I'm kind of pissed off," Harry shrugged.

"Aye, yer mother was a fine woman Harrah, she be there for me when no other dame was! The fire in her eyes made Jack Daniels seem like ginger ale!"

"Er… Sure." Harry shifted uncomfortably.

The Professor sighed again and pulled out a bottle and some glasses from the desk drawer.

"Can I interest you in a belt of scotch?" Lupin dangled the bottle attractively.

"Is that even legal here?!"

"It's Scotland! Everyone knows the kids are bathed in whiskey anyway."

"Yeah, but it's 9 in the morning!"

Lupin shrugged, "More for me then!" He spared the glasses and took a long pull from the bottle. After slamming it down on the table, he looked at Harry, "Makes the aspirin go down easier."

"Are you sure it's wise to mix medication and alcohol, sir?"

"Harry, this is the wizarding world. Two thousand years of magical discovery and we might not have made a hangover cure yet, but we can certainly stop drugs from interacting with eachother!"

Harry sat there in an awkward silence while Lupin took another pull from the bottle. Suddenly he blurted, "Well maybe it can be said that I have a problem."

Shrugging, Professor Lupin fell backward out of his chair and was fast asleep on the floor.

Harry stood up slowly and hesitated before saying "Uh… I'm gonna go now Professor." Hearing no response, he took his leave.

Harry spent the rest of the morning in the library, catching up on homework. Professor Lupin spent the morning drinking scotch and urinating in the Grindylow tank, much to its displeasure.

Fin.

Quick little chapter that came to me last night. Drunken!Lupin isn't really anything new, but I think I put a bit of a spin on it with the office scene from PoA and such.

Let me know what you think. See you next Saturday!


	30. The Raptors Are Coming!

The Raptors Are Coming!

This is entirely nonsensical… and doesn't make any sense at all, but I just watched Jurassic Park last night so I couldn't get this out of my head. It wont be funny at all unless you've seen the movie. If you haven't, I recommend you see it just because it's such a brilliant movie. And also so you understand how funny this chapter is.

Harry crept through the Forbidden Forest like Sam Fisher in a North Korean naval base. He didn't make a sound, he was invisible, not even the miscellaneous creatures, who had lived in the Forest their entire lives, knew that he was there.

This was exactly what Harry wanted. It was to his advantage. Why? Because Voldemort was also in the forest. Harry was attempting to ambush Lord Voldemort to end his reign of terror once and for all. He knew if he took one for the team, everyone else would make it out. He knew he had to die, but Voldemort was going with him.

Up ahead, robed in Darkness, stood Lord Voldemort. He was standing with his back facing Harry, staring idly into the Forest, as though he was challenging it to force him out of its domain. He stepped forward slowly, with his wand pointed in front of him. Sweat beaded down his forehead and into his eyes.

This was it. If he pulled this off, Voldemort was gone. Forever. The thought filled him with joy, a joy that was immediately stifled when he remembered exactly what it was that he had to do in order to bring Voldemort down.

'They should all be destroyed,' He thought to himself, smiling grimly. No time for that though, he'd have to settle with Voldemort.

He raised his wand to cast the curse that would destroy Voldemort. Avada Kedavra. It would be that easy, just to speak those words, and to force his hatred for everything that Voldemort had done to him into the spell. To make his words kill Voldemort. To watch him crumple on the forest floor.

Harry was a clever wizard, but not clever enough. As he raised his wand to cast the spell, something protruded from the foliage to his left. In the seconds that followed, he gleaned from his peripheral vision that this was indeed Voldemort.

"Clever girl," he managed to whisper, before turning in an attempt to cast a spell. As a wand was forced to his throat, he vaguely wondered about where the hair came from on Voldemort's body in order to make the polyjuice potion for the imposter.

The conclusion made him nearly sick. With a wand pushing against his throat, this was nearly impossible. He struggled between breathing and vomiting. Watching the colour of Harry's face fluctuate between blue and green was enough to wipe the triumphant expression from Voldemort's face.

The fake Voldemort whirled around, "Shoot him! Shooooooot him!" He was rewarded with a blinding green light to the face.

The real Voldemort turned around, but this time he had the head of a Velociraptor. Harry cringed and tried to yell, but he realized he wasn't making any noise.

He woke up immediately, on the London Underground. His scar might not have been bothering him for 19 years, but the nightmares sure didn't go away that easily.

Fin.

The ending came to me in a flash. It was genius. Hope you enjoyed all the Jurassic Park references. I dropped a lot of them. The title of the chapter is a reference to the Lord of the Rings, with 'The eagles are coming!', which, by coincidence, is actually a reference to The Hobbit, where the same words are said. See you next Saturday!


	31. The Trouble With Lockhart's

The Trouble With Lockhart's…

In which Voldemort's information turns out to be faulty… Just like that invisibility booster…

It was a dark room. There was the sound of running water coming from somewhere. It might have been the rain. He couldn't remember anymore.

There was only one dim light above him. It looked like it was made of glass, it was hard to look straight into it so he couldn't tell. He recalled reading about some Muggle contraption that made light inside a glass bulb, and determined that this was one of those things. He was still tied to the chair by ropes that certainly weren't ordinary ropes, because he felt like he couldn't move any part of his arms at all.

He wasn't quite sure how long he'd been in here. He thought he might have been counting drips of water on the wall, but that didn't make any sense because as he watched him they joined together and split apart and there were far too many in the first place. When faced with such a mental predicament he often found his arms seizing up, trying to break free… to sign something. He felt this compulsive autographing desire whenever heavy thought was involved.

Suddenly a door opened. He couldn't see exactly where this door lead to, or what was beyond it, because it was filled with blinding light. It might have just been a hall light. He didn't even know, he'd been stuck under this tiny bulb for… an unknown period of time. He wasn't going to go through the motions of trying to figure out how long he'd been here again. It'd just make his brain hurt, and then he'd get the itch to sign something.

But from the blinding light emerged 3 dark figures. 2 of them covered from foot to hood in black robes, with masks over their faces, and then a third, cold and sneering, with red eyes and snake nose.

He wasn't quite sure where he'd seen this guy before, but he looked like he might be bad news. The other guys' little skeleton masks made them look like highschool kids going trick-or-treating.

The pale and sneering one stepped forward. He stood in front of him for a moment before addressing him. "Gilderoy Lockhart, do you know why you're here?"

"Er… Hello friends. Can't say that I do, in fact. I was hoping you fellows would be able to help me out with that one," Lockhart threw in a charming smile at the end for luck.

Voldemort looked at one of the Death Eaters, Macnair, who stepped forward. Lockhart prepared to introduce himself, but instead the lightbulb was yanked from the ceiling and smashed into the side of Lockhart's skull. He was none too satisfied.

Howling in pain, Lockhart managed to get out, "What do you people want from me?!" before bursting into tears.

Voldemort looked genuinely alarmed at this, and turned to the other Death Eater, Malfoy. He motioned with his eyes for him to step forward, and Lucius reluctantly obeyed.

"You! You slime!" Malfoy yelled at Lockhart while hitting him. Lockhart woke up.

"What about me?! What do you want?! LISTEN, I'LL SIGN AS MANY PHOTOS AS YOU WANT, YOU JUST HAVE TO LET MY ARMS OUT SO I CAN USE A QUILL! FORGET IT, I'LL PUT THE QUILL IN MY MOUTH, JUST STOP!"

Lucius looked genuinely taken aback. He pushed Lockhart's face up, "It has been said in certain circles that you know the whereabouts of Harry Potter. Certainly you were close at one time!"

"Hmmm… well I don't remember that, but he did come and visit me in the hospital!"

"Good, good, when was this?"

"Oh, about two years ago or so."

Instead of expressing his disappointment verbally, Lucius just hit Lockhart again.

Macnair turned to talk to Voldemort.

"My lord, who the hell is this guy?"

"Gilderoy Lockhart, Lucius. He taught Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts a number of years ago."

"But what do we need him for, Lord?"

At this question, Voldemort grew visibly angry. Macnair flinched.

"Malfoy here has said that Lockhart and the Potter boy were once very close, and that he may be able to provide us with his whereabouts."

"Er… Sir the thing about that is…. When I was dropping the plant off for Podmore all those years back, I saw Lockhart in the next bed. Nurse said he was in for the long haul, memory charm backfired on him."

"You mean to tell me this buffoon doesn't even know who Potter is?!"

"I… think so, my lord."

The cries of Lucius Malfoy were heard long into the night.

Fin. Another sort of black-humor chapter. Sorry for the late update, I was horrifyingly busy yesterday. See you next Saturday!


	32. Neville Longbottom and the 300 Students

Neville Longbottom and the 300 Students

In which Neville Longbottom leads a 300-style badass last stand against Voldemort.

Thanks for all the reviews guys! It's been really encouraging. Never before have I really expressed how much of a BAMF I think Neville to be, so I'm going to take that opportunity now.

Neville stood in the Great Hall. His head was spinning. Harry was gone, and only 300 students were left in the school to fend off Voldemort's evil army. He would have liked to tell everyone that he had a good feeling about this, or that he thought that they would triumph in the end, but he knew that he could say neither.

The 300 of Hogwarts knew exactly what it was they were getting into. The Great Hall was a flurry of activity. Last minute preparations. Neville knew it was time, though.

"SPARTANS! ASSEMBLE!"

The students, teachers, Order members, and miscellaneous enchanted objects, assembled into formation.

Neville stood in front of them. When the Great Hall was completely quiet, he spoke again.

"THIS IS THE END OF HOGWARTS! This is the end of us, I'm afraid. But we need to buy Harry all the time he can get! I don't care what house you're in, TONIGHT WE DINE IN HELL, AND TOMORROW, I'M THINKING ARBY'S!"

A chorus of 'ha-oohs' rang through the Great Hall.

"Mr. Longbottom! As our unofficial commander it would be my duty to warn you that ceiling could collapse at any minute. Voldemort has been working powerful magic against it. What would you have us do?" McGonagall was terse, but anyone watching could see the glimmer of pride in her eyes.

"THEN WE SHALL FIGHT IN THE DARK!" Neville marched his troops outside.

The fighting was set to resume very soon, but a messenger, dressed in Death Eater garb, approached the 300.

"Longbottom! You have fought well tonight, but not well enough! In fifteen minutes time, beasts from a thousand nations will rain terror upon your ragged followers. The air will fill with your blood; the beasts will feast on your gore. Unless, of course, you lay down your arms! If you were to bow before Lord Voldemort, he would reward you in ways beyond imagining! You would have great power beyond kings!"

The Death Eater was out of breath after his little rant. Suddenly out from behind a bush jumped Charlie Weasley. His tree-trunk sized arms held the Death Eater very easily, despite his attempts at escape.

Neville pointed his wand at the Death Eater's heart. His attempts at escape became more desperate.

"Wait, I'm just the messenger!"

"A messenger with the blood of innocents staining his hands."

"This is madness!"

"You come in here, insult me and my people, make a mockery of those who died here tonight, and then you offer me slavery or death?" Neville was positively dangerous now.

"THIS IS MADNESS I TELL YOU!"

"Madness? THIS IS A 300 PARODY, IT'S ALWAYS MADNESS. AVADA FUCKING KEDAVRA!"

Instead of dropping a lifeless corpse to the ground, the force of the spell blew the Death Eater apart. Charlie Weasley was covered in blood and bones. Most historians agree that it was because Neville was just so damn badass.

Several minutes later, the fighting started once more. Voldemort had sent his best Death Eater's ahead to kill as many people as possible, enraged with the loss of his servant. They encountered some unexpected defenses, however.

Desk Phalanxes. The way a phalanx typically works, is that a defending soldier will have a shield, and a weapon. They use the shield to physically push the enemy back, and the lunge out from behind the shield to deliver the blow.

In this case however, lacking shields, Professor McGonagall decided to enchant desks to achieve much the same effect. The desks would slam forward into the Death Eaters, and the students shielded behind them would spring up to attack.

In this way, the army was impenetrable. McGonagall was accomplished enough to put protection enough on the desks that even the Death Eater's Avada Kedavra's couldn't destroy them. But the giants could. And despite the excellent defenses of the 300, they were vastly outmatched by their foe. The giants, spiders, and other nameless beasts took a heavy toll on the 300.

And then something happened that nearly broke them. The apparently lifeless body of Harry Potter was dropped in front of them. Voldemort stood laughing at them, and his Death Eaters kicked the corpse around.

"Well, well, all has been for naught. The brave 300 will perish, and for what? To die an honourable death? I would have given you anything you desired, were you to just kneel before me" Voldemort was laying on the theatric prose now.

"The only thing I desire is to see your lifeless corpse before me!" Neville shot back at him.

"INSOLENT BRAT!" Bellatrix screamed and lunged forward, murder in her eyes. She encountered an invisible wall, though. It seemed Voldemort planned to play this out a while longer.

And then a number of things happened at once. Neville lunged out of the way and, with the Sword of Gryffindor, slaughtered Nagini. Harry Potter revealed that he was indeed alive, and a showdown ensued.

"You shouldn't have come here tonight, Tom!"

Voldemort looked genuinely alarmed.

"I could defeat you without even my wand!"

"You foolish, foolish child. Tonight is your end Potter, your death"

Harry continued on as though he hadn't even heard Voldemort, "Because I know what I'm fighting for, and I believe in Dumbledore!"

"DEATH WILL CLAIM YOU YET POTTER!"

"AND I'M NOT SCARED ANYMORE!"

As Voldemort screamed the killing curse, so too did Harry intend to disarm him. And then the most extraordinary event of the evening happened. The curse rebounded on its master once more, this time destroying Voldemort forever.

The day was remembered forever as the day that 300 students, teachers, and heroic individuals all fought against the evil and tyranny of a much larger foe. Against impossible odds, they held off Voldemort, at great cost to life, in order to give Harry the time he needed.

The Greeks would be proud.

Fin.

A bit of a serious chapter I suppose, you could call it cross over almost, but it was still a parody at heart. I find it funny because I see the seriousness of Leonidas' lines from 300 with Neville speaking them. Either way, I hope you enjoyed! I'll see you next Saturday of course.


	33. Grammar Can't Save You Now

Grammar Can't Save You Now

In which Ron and Hermione keep it Quick and to the Point(Less).

It was a gloomy spring Sunday morning. The Great Hall was filled with half-awake students, barely registering their breakfasts, let alone each other. Nobody seemed to want to wake up; in fact most students were heading back to the Common Rooms. Some had glanced out the windows and not even bothered getting up in the first place. Rain pattered against the ceiling.

Three people in particular sat the Gryffindor table. They wouldn't be particular had two of them not being arguing furiously with each other, in stark contrast to the silence that filled the rest of the hall.

Lord knows what it was they were arguing about. The bushy-haired girl seemed to be verbally kicking the crap out of the Red-haired one, but he didn't seem like he would be backing off any time soon.

Harry tried, with little success, to tune them out. Every now and then he'd approach them when they grew particularly loud to try and separate them. As a result they would both scream at him to back the hell down or have his genitalia removed in a most painful manner. This forced Harry to back right the hell away. He still wanted to remain close by to ensure that his friends didn't try and kill each other. With Ron and Hermione, pretty much anything was possible.

"RONALD WEASLEY. You're suck a jerk! I can't believe you'd try and take this stance with me! You're trying to blame me for everything that's wrong in your life! IT'S NOT MY FAULT THAT PERCY HAS A LARGER WANG THAN YOU, OR THAT YOU WERE UNFORTUNATE ENOUGH TO FIND OUT THE HARD WAY."

Ron was brick red as half the Great Hall stared him down. There was some muted sniggering. Everyone seemed a lot more awake. Ron gave them all a scathing look, and then whipped back around to hiss at Hermione, "You know what! This is it! I ain't bothering with you anymore. This is it. The last straw. Wench."

"Ain't is not a word because it cannot be located in this common Oxford dictionary" Hermione snapped back matter-of-factly, pulling a dictionary out of her bag.

Ron snorted. "Oh yeah? You know what else can't be found in that dictionary? YOUR FUCKING FACE. SHUT UP ALREADY!"

Hermione seemed visibly lost for words. She gasped and struggled and turned a delicate shade of pink, before snatching the dictionary and attacking Ron with it violently.

In between each hit she screeched at him:

"YOU. ARE. SUCH. A. PRICK."

Ron yelped and tried to force her off, but she had his chest pinned with her knees and was freely beating every square inch of him she could reach with that dictionary.

Harry tried to grab Hermione's shoulders as gently as possible to pull her away, but he received an elbow to the groin and a dictionary to the side of the head for his efforts. His head was swimming and he seemed unable to breathe. It took what felt like an eternity to recover, but obviously it couldn't have been that long because Ron and Hermione were still fighting on the floor when he put his glasses back on again.

Fortunately it was around that time Professor McGonagall showed up, barking "Immobulus!" at the two of them.

In between the tweeting of birds, Harry heard things like "outrageous!" "profane!" "utterly irresponsible" and "highly reprehensible!" coming from Professor McGonagall. Both Ron and Hermione looked thoroughly cowed.

Harry tried to think of a way to cheer them both up. Professor McGonagall asked what caused the fight in the first place, and before either of them could answer, it was Harry to the rescue. "Oh, Ron glimpsed Percy's sizable genitals thanks to a series of highly unfortunate coincidences. He grew highly insecure of the size of his own, and of course he sought to confide in Hermione this problem. When hearing of his predicament, she laughed at him. It went from there."

There was a stunned silence for a few seconds. McGonagall's face was entirely unreadable.

"If Mr. Potter would be willing to stop making references to the inadequate size of Mr. Weasley's genitals, I would also be willing to forget this entire incident ever happened." McGonagall said in a strained voice.

"Just kill me now," moaned Ron from the floor.

Fin.

The book-beating was in response to the new trailer for Half Blood Prince. I was considering turning the Percy's Wang thing into a Hermione/Percy joke because that ship is flat out retarded, but I decided against it. Almost 11 thousand hits, 155 reviews, you people are spectacular. There's no end in sight, as long as I have the ideas, I'll keep this thing going! See you next week.


	34. The Broom Cupboard Interviews

The Broom Cupboard Interviews

In which Viktor Krum offers his rather… unique perspective on life.

The Twizard Champions were standing about, rather listlessly. They had just been through a rather long set of photo shoots, and a nerve-wracking weighing-of-the-wands session. They were beat. All of them wanted nothing more than to escape to the dinner that was surely waiting for them in the Great Hall. Krum's thoughts momentarily wandered to succulent roast pork, before being drawn back to reality with an intake of Veela-scent as Fleur began to pace the room.

All of the other Twizard Champions seemed to become instantly more awake. Probably because they were all men. Except the Potter boy. Krum looked on with a grim smile as a blush crept its way up Harry's face. He didn't really have time to savor the moment, however, because Rita Skeeter burst through the doorway that instant.

"Oh, the Champions. How adorable. Now, I know you're all waiting to return to the Great Hall, but I'd like to conduct some one-on-one interviews first. We'll start with the youngest, shall we?"

And with that, she grabbed Potter by the shoulder and nearly dragged him down a set of spiral stairs. Krum assumed that there was some sort of room below, but he couldn't tell why she'd want to bring him down first. Krum was traditionally moody with the press, like he was moody with everyone, but he still couldn't help feeling slightly envious of the Potter boy, being brought down first. It was he, Viktor Krum, who had recently captured the Quidditch World Cup. Why shouldn't he have been interviewed first?

Krum stood there, stewing in such unpleasant thoughts, until there was a muffled bang, seemingly coming from below. Without a moment's notice, Harry Potter ran up the stairs and all but fled from the room. Rita Skeeter came up the stairs and smiled sweetly, mentioning something about nerves. She then motioned for Krum to follow her back down the curved spiral staircase.

As Krum descended the stairs, he became more and more suspicious. It looked like this place was designed as an afterthought, and when he realized that the very room itself was only a broom cupboard, he let out a loud snort. Rita Skeeter looked up curiously. Seeing no emotion in Krum's face, she turned to her writing equipment with a frown.

Having prepared, she sat up straight and addressed Krum: "So, Viktor. Do you mind if I call you that?"

"Sure, votever you vant. I've been colled all sorts of teengs by de Press"

"Right, Viktor it is then. Well, Viktor, here you are an international Quidditch star, in your final year at school, and now a Twizard Champion. How does it all feel?"

Krum, a man whose emotions were under lock and key and wrapped in chains, just stared at her blankly. Finally understanding that he was expected to say something, he faked a smile and said "Great! Great! My life has been doing vonderful lately."

"So gruff! I bet your fans must love that," Rita faked a smile while ripping through pages of notes, looking for a question to burn him with. She smiled to herself as she found one.

"So, being all of the aforementioned things, what does Viktor Krum do in his spare time? Surely weight training, arms, combat, something of the like? Do you have any violent hobbies?"

Krum seemed to brighten instantly at this question. Rita took it for a good sign, looking up expectantly.

"I like to do a lot of things in my spare time, such as knitting, and running through fields of daisies, and of course, snuggling with my large collection of teddy bears."

Ms. Skeeter all but fell from her stool. Her quill became to scribble with such fury that the ink was landing in spots on her face. She didn't appear to notice.

"This will do just fine, thank you dear," and she shooed him out of the cupboard.

Krum left and only allowed himself to laugh once he had gone clear of the stairs.

Fin.


	35. Insufferably Owned

Insufferably Owned

Amanda is updating this chapter, because I'm totally stuck camping all weekend long. I'll be updating from Leakycon (The Leaky Cauldron's Harry Potter conference) in Boston next weekend! I can't wait! I'll see you all next week.

Hey everyone this is Amanda. I have a story to tell. Brad asked me to update this for him cause of his camping trip. He's so dedicated and what not. Well, I forgot. Yep, meant to do it before this party that I was going to, and didn't. So I hope you'll all read and review this like rabid animals, 'cause I'm on my friend's computer in the middle of a party.  
Oh, and Brad's story is the greatest shit around. And he's better than you. And enjoy. :)  
P.S. You should read MY fanfic. (Link in Brad's author page) You'll love it. Brad does. And we all know how cool he is. Kay bye! Love you Brad!

In which a certain insufferable know-it-all is finally silenced.

Harry Potter was sitting in his potions class. He was obnoxiously bored, and so he doodled absent-mindedly on his parchment while Snape droned on about something or other. If he had been paying a little more attention, he would have known that something extraordinary was afoot.

Oh yes, dear readers, something extraordinary indeed. Unknown to Mr. Potter, Professor Severus Snape was growing progressively more annoyed when no one in his classes could answer his questions but one Hermione Granger.

Hermione Granger. Mudlood, filth, bushy-haired menace, New Jersey resident… Call her what you will, she was still the best in their year.

But Severus Snape didn't care about the best. She was a mudblood. Ignoring the awkwardness of his own half-blood status, Snape was bent on trapping this creature in a web and then systematically embarrassing her in front of her peers.

He really didn't have anything better to do with his time.

He began asking the class increasingly difficult questions. Severus Snape was not about to be outwitted by some Muggleborn!

But, without fail, Granger answered every fucking one of them. Severus Snape was not amused.

He was sick of asking about potions. Clearly this wasn't getting him anywhere. Crazy bitch had memorized the whole textbook and the NEWT levels, too. He started throwing out questions about Muggle physics, elementary particles, quantum mechanics; things a person with any sort of livelihood should be in the dark about.

But without fail, she answered them all. Snape's questions finally grew more and more wild until he finally barked:

"MISS GRANGER! What is the average airspeed velocity of a Swallow?"

Hermione began to stutter. She rapidly turned pink, and began to exhale in shallow breaths. Before Snape could enjoy the sight too much, however, Seamus Finnigan stood straight up in his chair and yelled back "African or European?!" The class was momentarily distracted from the floundering Mrs. Granger, who was on the verge of nervous tears.

"Shut up, Finnigan! 50 points from Gryffindor!"

Snape snapped his head back to leer at Granger some more. Weasley and Potter were certainly doing their best to console her.

"LADDEN OR UNLADDEN?! THERE ARE COCONUTS INVOLVED SOMETIMES!"

Again, the class turned to Seamus, who was once more standing, not getting the answers he so craved.

"_FIVE HUNDRED POINTS FROM GRYFFINDOR. _If you say another _word_ Finnigan I promise you that you'll wish you'd never been accepted into this miserable school."

Seamus promptly sat down without a word. The entire class turned around to face the back.

Hermione Granger was unable to answer the question.

Fin.

Monty Python joke, I know. But it's such a Snape move that I thought it was perfect for his character. Let me know what you think!


	36. I'm not dead, damnit

I'm Not Dead, Damnit!

In which Harry is accused of eating the brains of the living.

A/N: I'm here live from Leakycon, the best Harry Potter conference ever conceived, here in Boston, MA. It's been amazing so far. I'm actually writing this chapter in the downtime between the live Pottercast and the next Wizard Rock show. You should be jealous. I would be.

Hello world. It's Amanda again. As brad mentioned up there ^ he is currently at Leakycon. Lucky bitch. Which means he, once again, did not have the time to get online and post this today. So I'm doing it for him once more.  
There was a little bit of confusion last time. No, I did not write this chapter. Brad wrote it, I'm simply posting it. I repeat, **I did not write this chapter. Brad did.  
**On another note, he asked me to also plug my story once again. He's in love with it and basically ordered me to do this. Not that I'm complaining.  
Everyone check out my story. My penname is _mandamedieval_ and the story is called _Unexpectedly Acquainted_.  
Seriously, you should read and review it.  
On with the chapter! Love you Brad!

Harry Potter awoke from the strangest dream. For a second he thought he was still in that hazy realm of King's Cross, having a pantsless conversation with his dead former Headmaster. Oh, dreams, how silly they could be. Harry found he was lying on the ground somewhere. His glasses were, fortunately, still on his face.

Harry couldn't quit remember exactly how he came to be here, on the grass, or why exactly he had woken up from a strange dream just now. Slowly, he heard voices. One voice in particularly, very high and girly, stood out amongst the rest. And then it clicked.

Harry was supposed to be killed by Voldemort. He was supposed to have sacrificed himself so that someone could take down Voldemort! Why the hell was he still alive then?! Someone must have noticed that he was breathing, because he heard muffled footfalls in the dewy grass coming toward him.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Someone knew he was alive. Harry prepared for a speedy death, a death which never ended up coming... The muffled footsteps drew right up next to him, and Harry felt a soft, cold hand touch his neck.

"He is dead, my lord!" The woman who's footsteps he had just heard had told Voldemort he was dead. Harry was about to violently disagree when he realized that by doing so he would probably end up eating his words.

Instead, he was informed of her predicament. Why she had lied to the Dark Lord for him. He still didn't understand exactly why he was still alive, but he realized that Narcissa was the only thing between him and an untimely death.

In repayment for being alive still, Harry was generally treated like a ragdoll, spit on, laughed at, tossed around. Harry just tried to roll with the punches. As long as it kept him alive.

And then everything happened at once. He was laid down, Voldemort gave a nice little speech, Harry got up, and things went downhill from there.

Voldemort's head snapped around and he leered at Harry. "How the hell did this happen? You can't be here, you're dead! You can't kill me, you're dead!" Voldemort began backing away in horror, "You're dead, damnit!"

"Well, looks like I'm not anymore," Harry stood casually, surveying his nails.

Voldemort was backed against the wall. Snarling, he drew the Eldar Wand. "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

The wand flew to its true master, the spell failed, Voldemort vanished from existance.

Harry walked up the crowd, who eyed him strangely. Harry stopped. He wasn't expecting this at all. Weren't they at least somehat pleased he'd defeated the Darkest wizard Britain had ever seen?

He walked up to Neville, who after just BAMF'ing the hell out of a giant snake, recoiled from Harry.

"What the hell is the big deal here? i just killed Voldemort!"

"Yeah... but how did you do it?!" shouted Dean Thomas. Another piped up, "What sort of Dark Magic did you have to use to do it?!"

"No, no! It's really simple you guys. Y'see, when Draco Malfoy disarmed Dumbledore-"

"How the hell is it talking?! He's dead!"

"I'm not dead, damnit!"

Suddenly, Luna Lovegood walked up to Harry. She offered to distract the crowd so he could escape. He agreed whole-heartedly, so she turned and pointed wildly. While Harry was walking away she turned around again and sent a red jet of light at him. He hit the floor with a resounding thud, and cheers echoed through the hall. Oh, those crazy Hogwarts kids.

Harry woke up once more. He noticed he was in a shallow grave, covered poorly with soil. He heard the rushing of the sea in the distance. As he slowly attempted to sit up, he noticed his left kidney was missing.

"Fuck my life."

Fin.


	37. This Shit is Over

This Shit is Over

In which Colin Creevey flips his shit on Harry.

Back from Boston, aka the best weekend of my life, and here with another chapter. I thought I'd shake things up a bit, since every other chapter I've written with Mr. Creevey in it has resulted in his violent and untimely death.

Harry strode the Great Hall. He was about to face off against Slytherin for the House Cup in five minutes, and he moved with speed as he carried his Firebolt under his arm. His entourage (Ron, Hermione, Neville, and half of Gryffindor House) followed alongside and in behind. The entrance was clear, he saw it up ahead. He thought he was home free as he strode out on to the pitch, but who other than Colin Creevey should pull up alongside, camera dangling from his neck.

"Hiya Harry!" Colin was full of the same childish glee as always. Harry rolled his eyes, "Not now, Colin! I've gotta go be a Quidditch hero and win the House Cup!"

"You know what, man, screw this. Screw this. I am SO tired of your shit, Harry!" Colin just went nuts.

Harry stopped in his tracks. Of all the things he expected to happen as the result of what he said, this was not the one he thought would actually come to pass.

"What?"

"I just try to be nice to everyone, okay? I don't know what kind of misguided self-absorbed son of a bitch you are, but I DON'T pay special attention to you! If you're just gonna blow me off whenever I try to be nice, I'm not even going to bother!"

Harry was at a loss for words. "Colin, I- I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way-"

"Save it, jackass. I hate you Harry!" Colin stormed off, camera bouncing precariously. Everyone in the stands watched Harry Potter stand there, feeling very foolish indeed.

Suddenly, Harry dropped his broom. He ran after Colin, shouting, "But Colin, I thought we were best friends!"

Colin ignored him and ran off the field. Harry chased faster. Suddenly, Draco Malfoy began to run after Harry from the opposite end of the field:

"Potter! Hey, Potter! I have the solution! Both of you come back here so we can mix up a great big pot of friendship!"

The crowd watched in awe as the blond haired Slytherin chased both of them down. Colin managed to escape, but Harry was trapped in a wrist lock by Malfoy and dragged back to the center of the pitch. As Madam Hooch finally pulled him away, Draco Malfoy kept repeatedly attempting to summon a cauldron in order to "mix up a big pot of friendship for Potter and Creevey". The match was cancelled.

It was later learned that Fred and George had slipped something into the breakfast of Draco Malfoy that morning. They wouldn't tell a soul (Not even Lee Jordan) what it was, but the effects were clear. By the end of the week, preorders for Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes had quadrupled.

Fin.

Bit of a short one, what can I say. Hope you found it funny anyway, let me know! I'll see you next week, of course.


	38. Right, Left, Center

Right, Left, Center…

The Great Hall. Utter silence. Harry knew that the Slytherins were all still talking, but the rest of the Hall had fallen silent. It didn't matter; the only thing he could hear was his slow heartbeat in his ears.

Dumbledore was standing in front of the entire assembly, his face grave. "It seems that at last we have come to the end of another year. But at what cost? What cost indeed…"

The entire Hall had fallen silent. Some of the Slytherins were seen rolling their eyes, but even they had the good sense to shut up and listen to Dumbledore. The Hufflepuff table was pale and sad, obviously affected by the loss of their housemate and Champion.

"There is much that I would like to say to you all tonight," said Dumbledore, "but I must first acknowledge the loss of a very fine person, who should be sitting here," he gestured toward the Hufflepuffs, "enjoying our feast with us. I would like you all, please, to stand, and raise your glasses, to Cedric Diggory."

They did it, all of them; the benches scraped as everyone in the Hall stood, and raised their goblets, and echoed, in one loud, low, rumbling voice, "Cedric Diggory."

Harry caught a glimpse of Cho through the crowd. There were tears pouring silently down her face. He looked down at the table as they all sat down again.

"Cedric was a person who exemplified many of the qualities that distinguish Hufflepuff house," Dumbledore continued. "He was a good and loyal friend, a hard worker, he valued fair play. His death has affected you all, whether you knew him well or not. I think that you have the right, therefore, to know exactly how it came about."

Harry raised his head and stared at Dumbledore.

"Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort."

A panicked whisper swept the Great Hall. People were staring at Dumbledore in disbelief, in horror. He looked perfectly calm as he watched them mutter themselves into silence.

"The Ministry of Magic," Dumbledore continued, "does not wish me to tell you this. It is possible that some of your parents will be horrified that I have done so – either because they will not believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, or because they think I should not tell you so, young as you are. It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally preferable to lies, and that any attempt to pretend that Cedric died as the result of an accident, or some sort of blunder of his own, is an insult to his memory."

"The Ministry is in full denial over the return of Lord Voldemort. Dark and difficult times lie ahead. Soon we must all face the choice, between what is right and what is left. Doubtless there are those here among us who would side with the Right, the Death Eaters, those evil neo-conservative bastards. And there are others, the Left, the Wizocrats would side against Lord Voldemort, and fascism, and everything wrong in the world."

Harry sat stunned. He had never heard of Wizocrats before. He wasn't sure what a "neo-conservative" was, but judging by the fact that Dumbledore had called them bastards, Harry assumed it was bad.

Harry watched Draco Malfoy scowl darkly at Dumbledore. Harry noticed for the first time that he had a red elephant stitched to his Hogwarts robes. Huge, slow moving, and stupid. Harry thought it sounded more like Crabbe and Goyle than Draco, really.

"Remember Cedric. Remember a boy who, though certainly not the brightest, was a noble Wizocrat all the same. And he died for it. Remember Cedric Diggory."


	39. Shattered Dreams

Shattered Dreams

In which Professor Binns debunks a myth for the first and last time ever in History of Magic.

Amanda is uploading this chapter too, since I'll be in Toronto for another wizard rock concert! What a deal.

I honestly don't know what he did before he met me. I'm such a life saver. He's lucky I don't have a life. Everyone agree? Yep. On the plus side, though, he lets me plug my own story every time. Or, rather, orders me to. I swear, he's obbsessed.  
Well, as always,  
Fanfiction username: mandamedieval  
Story title: Unexpectedly Acquainted  
Please give that a read, and enjoy Brad's new chapter!

It was another boring History of Magic class. Every day, it was the same routine: They forced themselves through the door, into a desk, and then they died a little on the inside. The class was probably among the most boring ever conceived, and Professor Binns' droning voice made it infinitely worse.

Today, was different, however. The second years were particularly interested in asking the Professor a question. Really, Christmas was fast approaching, and this was something that could not stand any longer. Hermione, despite her reservations, felt that Professor Binns was the best for the job.

She found her nerve, and put up her hand. Professor Binns stopped ranting suddenly and looked at her wide-eyed, as though he had never noticed her presence before.

Hermione glowered, "Don't give me that look! I'm the only one who pays attention in this place! And that's only thanks to the influence of several hundred milligrams of nicotine!"

Professor Binns looked further alarmed, "Young lady, there's no call to speak to a teacher like that. May I ask what it is you want?"

Hermione stopped glowering, a tad sheepish, "Well, see we were all wondering about this one thing that keeps coming up around Hogwarts- "

"Ah, doubtless you are making reference to the Chamber of Secrets. Well, there is a rich legend behind that one- "

"Er, no sir," Hermione interrupted, "We were actually wondering about… Santa Claus…"

Professor Binns let out a wheezy rasp that, were he alive, could have been mistaken for laughter. Instead it sounded like he was slowly dying, a second time.

"Sorry, Ms… Gretchen… But I do not deal in the stuff of legends. This is History of Magic, we must remain within the realm of fact. And Santa Claus has far too many inaccuracies and myths about him for me to discuss here."

The class groaned. For the first time in Harry's memory, the entire class was actually awake, at one point watching intently. Their little 12-year-old feet swung around and stomped on the floor when they were denied. It was a wonder the teachers could keep from laughing, with all of the cuteness randomly exploding in the room.

"Please, Professor? We're really curious about this, you see, the older students have all been telling us some things…"

"DON'T REMIND ME!" Ron banged his forehead against the desk and began sobbing loudly. Clearly Fred and George had told him a few things.

Professor Binns, seeing distress in his class for likely the first and last time, was genuinely concerned.

"Now, now Wesley. I'm sure you'll be fine."

Ron sobbed a little more, "We'll all be fine," he added hastily.

But Ron Weasley was upset. And god damnit, when Ron Weasley is upset, you give him answers. You give him answers or you give him death. Professor Binns seemed to realize this, and in the face of a crying 12-year-old, finally relented.

"Most of the things people claim to know about Saint Nicholas, or 'Santa Claus' are hokum nonsense. For example, the fact that he is eternal is nonsense! Santa is as mortal as you! Another myth, that he is fat! While it is true that he may be jolly, he is certainly not fat! And while he does bring Christmas presents to everyone around the world, he doesn't do it by flying in a magical sleigh! In fact, he uses magic to bring them to every household, Muggle and Wizard, much more time efficient that way. His name is not even Santa Claus. Haven't you guessed yet?"

The class stared at him with muted disbelief. Professor Binns pursed his ghostly lips in annoyance, "Really now, I thought you were better than that. The man muggles believe to be Santa Claus is, in fact, Albus Dumbledore."

Ron was sobbing tears of joy.

Fin.

Oh, this was a fun one to write. I think it turned out much better than last week's, if only because I was actually intending for this one to be funny. Anyway, I'll see you all next week, as usual!


	40. Housewife, Mother, GhostFaced Killah?

House Wife, Mother, Ghost-Face Killah?

This is the third last Random Thoughts chapter ever. I've decided to end the series on that magical number, Chapter 42. I'm not going to get too sentimental just yet, but it's been one wild ride. The reason I'm ending it is not because I'm taking a break from writing, but rather because my novel-length summer project (Look for it soon) will be taking up all of my time. So I'll temporarily be giving up parody in favour of serious writing.

Now, more than ever, is the time to get your friends reading this. If you've enjoyed Random Thoughts, pass it on to your friends! Let them get in on it before it ends forever. Three weeks left. That's plenty of time. For those of you who've been reading from the start (Or the restart, aka before Chapter 10), thanks, honestly, for sticking with me this far. You're the people I'm writing for.

In which Molly Weasley pulls out all the stops.

The battle was in full tilt. Curses were flying everywhere. There was a dangerous group of eight individuals in the middle of the Great Hall, and they were fighting to kill.

Voldemort was having a crazy four-way with McGonagall, Kingsley, and Flitwick. None of them could seem to finish off, though.

In another section, Bellatrix was having a crazy four-way herself, with Ginny, Hermione, and Luna. Unlike Voldemort, whose face was a mask of hatred, she seemed to be quite enjoying herself.

She alternated between cackling and giggling as she deflected the spells of the three young witches, quite insane, but talented nonetheless. The crowd watched on in awe as she cast spell after spell at the three girls, each a near miss. She didn't seem to want to kill them quite yet. She was toying with them, having a good laugh.

Harry knew that all three of them (Especially Hermione) were formidable witches. But could they stand up next to the likes of Voldemort's chief lieutenant? He didn't want to find out the hard way.

Suddenly, the atmosphere of the room underwent a palpable change. There were gasps as Bellatrix's face changed from serene to horrifying in seconds. She began shooting curses much too close for comfort.

The killing curse whizzed past Ginny Weasley's ear, and Harry was already taking off to kill that crazy hoe.

But before he could even get anywhere near, he was knocked over like a pile of fucking bowling pins by none other than Molly Weasley.

Harry was about to protest loudly when he remembered that he was still supposed to be dead. Seeing the look in Mrs. Weasley's eyes, he began to creep away. Unadulterated murder. That was what radiated from those eyes. It was fucking scary.

Bellatrix turned back into her giggly, insane self for a moment at the sight of Molly Weasley. She was fuming with rage. She shrugged off her shawl, and whipped off that little Frenchie hat she always wore.

"BITCH, I'MA ANIHILATE YOU!"

Harry stifled a snort, and heard Ron whisper to Hermione, "Did my mom just say bitch?"

Bellatrix stood there and laughed, "WOMAN YOU DON'T HAVE THE BALLS!" She laughed again and in a sing-song voice said "No balls!"

From the wall Harry crooned, "Sticks and stones may break your bones but Molly Weasley's glare will liquefy your kidneys."

Bellatrix spun wildly, trying to identify the source of the voice. When she met no luck, she refocused on Molly.

"I'm going to kill you. And your family. AND THAT FUCKING GHOUL IN YOUR ATTIC TOO. MEHEHEMEHEMEMEHEMEHEHEHE"

Mrs. Weasley was glowering. "Bitch please, I'm from the Burrow!"

Bellatrix, no longer amused, just snarled in response. They began to duel, a rapid procession of curses that narrowly avoided the two witches. Molly Weasley ground her teeth, and increased the intensity of her wandwork. It was now merely a blur to the onlookers.

Suddenly, the room seemed to grow dark. Bellatrix was on top of one of the tables in the Great Hall. She cackled madly again. She began to scream "I'MA CHARGIN' MAH LAZER-"

But she was cut off. Bellatrix looked down in horror, and then she died. Molly Weasley had finished her off while she was still 'chargin' her lazer'.

Ginny smirked triumphantly, "Mess with me and deal with my mother, bitches!"

Fin.

Sorry for the late update, I've been so busy lately. 2 chapters to go, see you next week, dear readers!


	41. And Then There Was Angst

And Then There Was Angst

This is the second last chapter EVER. There's only one more after this, guys. It's intense, I know, but yeah, it's all coming to a close. So without further adieu, I present to you Chapter 41 of Random Thoughts.

In which Harry Potter returns to lecture Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Capslock!Harry makes one final appearance.

It was a wonderful spring day at Hogwarts, in the not too distant future. Harry Potter was back once more, but this time not as a student. He'd been invited by the school to talk to the 7th Year Defense Against the Dark Arts class about exactly that… The Dark Arts, and Defending Against them.

So, inside the classroom, which fortunately had all the windows thrown wide to make use of the healthy breeze, Harry did just that. He taught. He told them about Voldemort, about the First War, the Second War, and the Third War with the Terminators that was bound to happen eventually.

He was midway through lecturing them about the physiology of Lord Voldemort, with slides provided on a magical overhead.

"We managed to get these from the corpse afterward. Thank god CSI isn't half as tedious in the magical world…" He trailed off noticing the collective look of confusion coming from the students.

"Crime Scene Investigation, kids," and they all nodded their heads knowledgeably, even though Harry was fairly sure they still had no idea what he was talking about. '17-year-olds,' he thought, rolling his eyes.

He returned to lecturing about Voldemort: "And as you can see here," Harry said, pointing to the slide, "Voldemort had an enlarged hippocampus- That's the bit up here- leading his emotional responses to be roughly 15 million times more extreme than normal. We figure that's why he was so evil."

And hand shot up at the back of the class, he pointed, "Yeah?"

"Is it true you harbored a part of Voldemort's soul in your body for 17 years?"

"Uhmmm, well, yeah," Harry trailed off stupidly, not liking where this was going.

"So, would Voldemort's emotions also affect your emotions then, since part of him was inside you?"

"Well, at times I would find his emotions affecting mine… But that doesn't really have anything to do with the topic-"

"Is that why you were so angsty growing up?"

"No, that was because NO ONE UNDERSTOOD ME. YOU STILL DON'T. NO ONE HERE UNDERSTANDS WHAT I WENT THROUGH, OKAY?"

The students all sat quite still. They were well aware of HP's reputation for violent outbursts, but this was firsthand. The children cowered beneath their desks.

Harry took deep breaths and then sat down for a moment. And then Voldemort burst in through the door, screamed "NO ONE EXPECTS THE SPANISH INQUISITION!" and killed everyone.

Fin.

It's short, but I think that's really all that needs to be said. Sorry if it feels like a cop-out, but I got the punch line out of the way relatively early, so yeah, that's why. Expect the final chapter next week! See you all then. PS, the title of this chapter is totally a parody of 'And Then There Were None', if you didn't catch it.


	42. The End

The End

In which Random Thoughts at last goes to rest…

A long time ago, in the not too distant future… The autumn was like an orange… Yes, an orange. Wait, that's not right. It was like an apple! Yeah, a golden, crisp apple. Something that was fresh, and young, but aged and wearing on at the same time. That was the autumn, as far as Harry was concerned.

He sped down the vast platform, made cramped by the sheer number of people, in search of the wall. That wall between Platforms Nine and Ten. That was where the magic happened, after all. He happily strolled along, his family in tow; a striking red-haired woman beside him, and three, snively children behind him. Harry had no regrets over waiting to have kids as he listened to them bicker.

"You're gonna be in Slytherin! What would Dad say? They'd never look you in the eye again!" Obnoxiously-Named-Brat #1 yelled.

"I will not be in Slytherin! I'll set that hat on fire if it tries to put me in there!" Obnoxiously-Named-Brat #2 countered.

"I WANT TO GO TO HOGWARTS," the lone female Obnoxiously-Named-Brat wailed over all of them.

Harry turned around and silenced them all with a warning glare. He'd had enough of this crap at home, and was relieved to be dumping them into the occasional-safety of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. All except the youngest, he'd enjoy having her sanity around without the other two.

"Alright kids, right on through," Harry gestured to the barrier, and motioned them through. Naturally, _James Sirius_ was the first through, what with his ridiculous personality and such. He zoomed his trolley through the barrier like he was racing the thing down, daring it to turn solid and kill him.

Harry rolled his eyes and dragged _Albus Severus_ through the barrier, with reluctance.

_Albus Severus_ seemed sure that they would hit the barrier, but just as _James Sirius _had done, they went strolling right on through like it wasn't even there. Before him was the giant steam engine, the Hogwarts Express.

Harry couldn't help but notice that the platform seemed oddly foggy. He was trying to spot the others, but couldn't. Instead, he tried looking for the source of the fog. A Dementor was about 10 feet in front of him, sitting on a bench.

'I didn't know Dementors could sit,' Harry mused idly, but it appeared that this was indeed the case. He shouted over to the Dementor, "Excuse me! I'm kind of looking for someone, could you take it somewhere else?"

The Dementor, who had previously been reading a newspaper, got up, glanced (If you could call it that) at Harry, and then drifted away morosely. Without Voldemort, Azkaban had grown vacant. Sunshine and rainbows everywhere left Dementors out of work and quite depressed. Harry almost felt inclined to let the poor guy suck on his soul a bit to cheer him up. Almost.

With the Dementor exiting, the platform became instantly clear, and he spotted who he was looking for through the receding haze. The other family, which had spotted Harry, Ginny, and the kids, (They had waltzed up behind him to stare at the Dementor who was busy trying to incline itself up the stairs 'Could Dementors climb stairs?') rushed over.

A tall, balding redhead, a bushy beaver of a woman, and two innocent children. _Hugo_ and _Rose _never seemed to notice that they were named quite differently from their Potter counterparts. It was something the Weasley's took immense pride in when the Potters weren't looking. _Lily Luna _and _Albus Severus _stalked up to say hello to Rose, and _James Sirius_ had disappeared into the haze, as was to be expected of any free-wheeling Brat.

"Oh look, it's Thing One and Thing Two!" Ron grinned at _Albus Severus _and _Lily Luna_. Ron meant to impress Harry and Hermione with his knowledge of Muggle children's stories, but all it got was a warning look from Harry and a smack on the arm from Hermione. "This is _not_ how we treat our friends' children, is that clear?" she hissed at him. He complied hastily.

The joke was clearly lost on _Albus Severus _and _Lily Luna_, but they did not seem at all impressed at being referred to as 'Things'. They glowered at Ron. Ginny said nothing, feeling that Ron had, as usual, deserved any animosity he brought upon himself.

"So," Ron said, attempting to clear the air, "You drive? I did. Parked and everything. Let's face it, those Muggle driving exams are easy, eh?"

Hermione looked at him, disapproving, and so instead turned to Ginny to stop herself from putting Ron in his place. When he was sure that she had looked the other way, he whispered to Harry, "Nearly killed me, it did. Those things are scary, cars. And the motorways! Good god Harry, how do your people do it? Have you ever been in…" and Ron's face turned into a mask of pure horror, "a roundabout? Scariest thing of my life, mate, tops the spiders, tops it all. I'd rather face down a bunch of Death Eaters than go through that hell again."

Harry just laughed. Of course driving had been a bit of a fright for him, he'd become semi-adjusted to living a life where magic was the cornerstone to everything, but it's hard to forget your roots, and Harry had lived a purely Muggle existence for nearly a decade.

Harry was drawn out of his reverie by Ron: "Speaking of Death Eaters," he had muttered, and with the slightest of inclinations of his round, almost non-existent chin, Ron had motioned to a figure standing some 50 yards away. Draco Malfoy was standing on the opposite end of the platform with his wife and son. Some chick named Greengrass and a son named after more Latin nonsense for menacing creatures. Ron rolled his eyes in disgust.

But before he even knew it, his best mate, Harry Potter, was bounding across the platform toward Draco Malfoy. And as though the hard stone platform had suddenly become a meadow full of flowers, Draco and Harry ran toward each other, arms spread wide. Ron, panicking, shouted "Immobulus!" to try and stop the madness.

It only made things worse. Now, not only were they still running toward each other across the platform, arms spread wide, but _they were doing it in slow-motion. _Ron nearly gagged. "Guess that 'pot-of-friendship' thing worked out for them after all," he balked to no one in particular. Ginny sighed, "Let them do what they have to do, Ronald."

It had been almost 19 years since Harry had last seen Draco. I mean, yeah, they had had some crazy nights after the Battle of Hogwarts, but they'd agreed to stop seeing each other once Harry had settled down with Ginny. They both knew Pansy wasn't happening, so he'd found himself Astoria, just plain enough to keep him grounded, just Slytherin enough to keep him coming back for more. Harry was happy for the bastard.

Ron looked on in disgust. The Pot of Friendship concept was clearly lost on him. Instead, he focused on _James Sirius_, who had just returned from god-knows-where.

"Hey, it's _Horace Fillius_! How's it going?"

James Sirius looked on in annoyance. "You're getting warmer. Better than Rubeus Dedalus anyway."

Ron looked momentarily embarrassed, "Right! You're _Gideon Alastor, _I remember now."

"It's actually _James Sirius_," he replied tersely. Well, about as tersely as some 12 year old could, anyway.

Ron seemed supremely unconcerned, "That's great, really great," he trailed off amiably.

_James Sirius_ decided he didn't have time for that crap, and went racing off for the rest of the group. Ron seemed even less concerned.

"YOU'LL NEVER GUESS WHAT I SAW!" _James Sirius _screamed over all conversation, "So I was wandering through the bathroom, and I kick open a stall, and there's _Teddy Lupin _having sex with Victoire in the loo! Our Teddy Lupin! Fornicating wildly in a train station lavatory!"

Ginny groaned, "Well, there goes that talk. Looks like the birds and the bees are coming early. _Albus Severus, Lily Luna_, come here. I'm only doing this once." She then proceeded to explain to the three of her children the principals of sexual intercourse. All three children seemed to facepalm in unison.

After a while, she sighed, "You _would _burst in on them having sex. Honestly _James Sirius_, you're so much like Ron sometimes it scares me. Complete lack of tact."

Just then, Harry returned. He seemed to be smoothing his hair back from something. Ginny thought it best for their marriage that she not ask. "Anyone have any gum?" Harry shot quickly. She put her head in her hands.

Completely ignoring her, he checked his ghetto watch, the golden metal long-since faded. It had once belonged to the most badass wizard alive, but hey, people die sometimes in children's novels. What can you do? "You kids should be getting on the train now," he mentioned, trying to shift the attention off of himself.

And so, with many goodbyes, much luggage cramming, and some hasty boarding, the children were on the Express, ready to begin their school year. They leaned out the windows so that their parents could communicate their final wishes before they could go to live without them for a blissful 10 months. Or at least till Christmas, anyway.

"Make sure you give Neville plenty of love!"

"Not you, Rosie! You stay away from him," Ron barked, "I don't trust that guy. Never married, did he? Merlin knows what he gets up to in that greenhouse!" For his rant, he received a smack to the back of the head. "Ron, this is NEVILLE you're talking about. _Neville Longbottom,_ you know the boy we went to school with?" Hermione laughed in disbelief, "Ignore your father, kids, he's talking through his rear once more!" the children all laughed, because they knew it was true. Ron just didn't get any respect these days. Did he ever?

"Make sure you don't forget about tea with Hagrid on Friday," Harry called to _Albus Severus_. He heard Ron musing, "So he did survive that spider army, eh?" and snorted.

Harry began giving him last minute advice next to the window, rapidfire, "Don't duel anybody, they'll probably kick your ass. Don't fuck with Peeves, or he'll fuck up your life. Stay away from the Malfoy kid until you're 16, and then have awful slash written about you. Yeah, that's about it," Harry concluded.

"Dad?" _Albus Severus _asked, "What if I'm in Slytherin?"

Harry sighed. "If you're in Slytherin… I might have to disown you. I come from a long line of Gryffindors, son, we've got a streak to maintain," and upon seeing the look of abject horror on his son's face, laughed and added, "I'm just kidding. But you wont be. See, I'd tell you that the Sorting Hat considered me for Slytherin, but that doesn't really count because I was harboring a piece of the soul of the most evil, Slytherin, dark wizard of all time, which might have had something to do with it. So, just bank on your innate character traits, and your Gryffindor parents, to steer you out of that doghouse."

_Albus Severus _seemed to consider this for a while, but then finally deciding it was the best advice he was likely to get, nodded once and hugged his father goodbye out the window. "Try to keep _James Sirius_ from killing anyone, wont you? Honestly, that kid's gonna be homicidal by the time he's 16, I swear," Harry mused. But then the train began to glide away. Harry raised a hand, and his two sons waved back at him, before settling into their seats.

Harry felt his fingers wander up to smooth his hair again, but instead he found them resting on _A Lightning Bolt Scar. _Not just any lightning bolt scar, the one that had been on his forehead since the age of 1, and he found himself wondering at all the death that the scar had caused, all of the people that had given up their lives because of it.

His parents, his Godfather, Fred, George's ear, Remus, Tonks, Snape, Dumbledore, Moody, Colin Creevey, Cedric Diggory, and 50 more in the Battle of Hogwarts alone.

The scar, and the guilt that came along with the gallons of blood on his hands, had not pained Harry in 19 years.

And all was well… Except not really.

A/N: And that's the end! This is an idea I've had for a long, long time. Since August 2008 I knew this was how I wanted to end the series. I really hope I did it justice. If you've made it this far, thank you so much. 42 chapters is an immense length, even when they're as short as mine. For those who were there from the beginning, for those who were there from the restart, and from those who have been following since, thank you, thank you so much. You, the readers, are why I write this. You're why I updated this story every week for so many months. You're a big part why this so enjoyable. Thank you all for making this story so very successful, in my eyes.

It didn't begin that way. Random Thoughts sat for a while without any reviews; in fact it was 3 chapters before I even knew anyone was reading. But read they did, so I began to update more, to explore the ideas I'd always had, because I knew that there were people out there that wanted to read this. It wasn't until November 2008, in fact the very weekend of my birthday, that I realized that this story had the potential to go further. I got an amazing reader response, and from there, I vowed to update weekly. You took this far further than I ever expected it to go. I began writing down ideas for this story in the summer of 2007. Here were are in the summer of 2009, two years later, and Random Thoughts is bigger and better than I ever dreamed possible. And I owe it all to you, the reader.

But there's one particular reader, one person I want to thank over anyone else. MandaMedieval, my girlfriend, has been following this story almost since we met. And she's been reviewing, and encouraging me, and uploading in the scant times that I'm not around. And it's her, really her, which has kept me going for this long. She's part of my inspiration. She motivates me to write when nothing else can. And, if you like well-written fanfiction (And if you're reading this, chances are you do- I kid, I kid), please check her stuff out. It's spectacular.

She's also the reason I'm starting my summer project, called Bringing Down the Walls. Yes, it's serious, and yes, it's not about Harry, (Neither was Random Thoughts, sometimes), but there's a good chance you might enjoy it if you like a well-crafted story. That's what I'm shooting for. Look for it very, very soon.

Sorry for the obnoxiously long Author's Note, but I've had two years worth of my life end here tonight. This story has evolved with me, evolved with my writing, and evolved with my life. It'll be sad to see it go. If I ever think up any more crazy ideas for one-shots, I'll know where to find you guys, eh? Don't rule it out.

Thanks once more for reading. You've all made this so enjoyable for me. Goodbye for now!


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